


ash daun en skai

by EruditePrincess1993



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anya Lives, Arranged Marriage, Better Than Canon, Between Seasons/Series, Comfort Sex, Echo Is Bi, Established Costia/Echo, Eventual Relationships, Grounder Culture - Freeform, Initial Bellamy Blake/Gina Martin, Multi, Non-Canon Relationship, POV Third Person Limited, Past Raven Reyes/Kyle Wick, Post-Episode: s02e16 Blood Must Have Blood Part II, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Roan (The 100) Lives, Tagged Relationships Are Endgame, Wells Jaha Lives, Worldbuilding, because i'm bitter and in denial, expect this to end at 4x13, i don't make the rules, just because i don't ship something, past roan/echo, that doesn't mean i'm not open to it if both parties sort out their problems
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2018-11-29 21:07:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 189,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11449074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EruditePrincess1993/pseuds/EruditePrincess1993
Summary: It’s been a day since Clarke left Camp Jaha after she, Bellamy, and Monty were forced to irradiate Level 5 of Mount Weather. Before a blizzard, Clarke comes across a bounty hunter, who has some baggage of his own. She feels forced to ride out the storm with him and ends up spending three months with him. In which overtime they share their secrets and information about each other as they grow closer.Meanwhile, everyone in Camp Jaha tries to move forward after the events at Mount Weather, despite how difficult and excruciating it will be for some. Lexa deals with the emotional and political consequences of leaving Clarke and Skaikru behind at the Mountain. Echo, who is freed from the Mountain, wrestles with feelings past and present as she tries to help Ice Nation combat Skaikru Marauders.Due to background forces and threats that will reach the surface, their stories will converge.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> All I get to say…I didn’t ship them until 4x08. I mean, I liked their dynamic but boy, do I now ship it. Picks up a day after 2x16 and will cover the lost three months between s2 and s3. Expect it to go into s3 and well into season 4 as well. The title is Trigedasleng for “Snow and Sky.” Originally, I wanted to focus the story just on Clarke and Roan but decided to focus on the other characters as well. 
> 
> All conversations in Trigedasleng are in italics. Also, its set two full centuries instead of the ninety-seven as I refuse to believe it’s logically feasible for human society to have that magnitude of culture change after just a century. Also, Anya and Wells are alive in this because yes, I’m that bitter.

The cold air bit Clarke’s cheeks and hunger gnawed her insides as she walked down the passage through the trees. If it weren’t for the heavy trench coat that she wore since that night, she would have frozen to death.

            And she scolded herself for leaving without any food or hunting supplies. She used the last bullet of her gun to kill Dante Wallace and she must have discarded the gun somewhere, as she no longer had it in her possession; therefore her only weapon was the knife that Anya gave her days earlier. Yet, she thought it was best that she took off. That the distance between her and everyone else was good.

            It had been a day since she left Camp Jaha following the genocide at Mount Weather. The images of people slumped in their chairs and lying on the ground; having been blistered red from the radiation cooking them resurfaces and Clarke couldn’t help but shiver.

            Innocent children. People, like Maya Vie, who helped her friends died alongside those that were guilty. She wishes she had a choice. That those people didn’t have to die in order for her to save her friends. They didn’t have to die in order for her to save her mother from the drill.

            The resentful glare on Jasper’s face as he held Maya’s lifeless body. The grim somberness on Bellamy’s face as they watched the aftermath of their decision. With her gone, Jasper wouldn’t be reminded of Maya’s death by just her mere presence. As selfish it was, at least they had Bellamy. They looked up to him after all.

            However, she regretted not giving Wells a proper farewell. She wished she had gone over there while he was tending Raven and gave him a hug goodbye. At the time, she thought he needed some distance, having watched Raven and his friends being drilled for their bone marrow.

            When _her_ face surfaced, the blood reached her face and hands as white hot rage and pure resentment filled her mind. _I do care, Clarke, but I made this decision with my head and not my heart_ were one of her words before departing with her army in tow after taking the deal.

            Clarke remembered there was a tinge of regret in the Commander’s green eyes when she left them to their own devices. Though not enough to warrant forgiveness. Lexa could have stayed. She could have even faked taking the deal, therefore _directly_ sharing the blood of innocents that were already soaking Clarke’s hands.

            _May we meet again_ , were her words before departing with Anya and Tristan at her heel. Clarke scoffed at the memory. How much she wanted to say that she wish she wouldn’t but the shock of Lexa’s decision paralyzed her from saying anything. _We will meet again alright_ , she thought angrily as she kicked aside a branch to clear her path. Next time if and when she sees Lexa, she will be greeted with a wad of saliva on her face and every angry word she wants to hurl her way.

            Overhead, Clarke saw that clouds were beginning to gather. There were streaks of blue from which the sun casts her rays. If Clarke had any indication, it would get overcast soon. Not to mention that the clouds were hanging low, an indicator for precipitation.

            “You are not going to have the technology to expect the weather when the time comes to descend down the Earth,” were the words of Charles Pike, her former Earth Skills teacher, as he taught a lesson one day a year before her incarceration. “You are going to have rely on your senses. Low hanging clouds are one factor. If the air feels moist and warm, expect rain. If it’s cold and dry around you, expect snow.”

            It snowed the night they stood before the Mountain but that was the first snow. It stuck to the ground overnight before melting after the sun rose. Well, it appeared the ground froze overnight given that the grass was paler then the day before. If it would snow again, then it would stick.

            Clarke didn’t know how long it had been, but it didn’t seem long that the sky became completely overcast. Shivering, she held her trench coat together. It had been a day since she left Camp Jaha and she lost track of how much land she covered.

            A few yards away, she thought she heard a twig snap. Clarke froze where she stood, the blood pumping in her ears and hands. Her heart pounding in her chest. As if guided by her self-preservation, she took the knife from the inside of her overcoat. The handle threatening to slip from her shaking hand.

            Clarke knew the risk of trekking alone; with no hunting supplies, provisions bag, and with only a knife. That there was a chance that she might encounter a traveling Grounder or perhaps a group of them. If it was one person, she might be able to handle but a group of people was a different story.

            Poising her knife up with her shaking hand, she turned in a one hundred and eighty degree radius. She had an idea where to strike her would-be assailant. If she was lucky, she would go for the jugular and run before the blood had a chance to squirt out. Perhaps pierce the middle of the abdomen where blood would be most likely to pour out.

            Regardless, she couldn’t stop the cold sweat running down her back as heavy footsteps sounded closer to her. She poised her knife higher, her hand shaking harder than it was a minute ago.

            A man stepped up from the trees. The sides of his face covered in dried mud. His long hair tangled and matted. His clothes weathered as if they suffered years of travel. Strapped to his back, was what looked like a quiver of arrows and a sheath of a sword.

            Though he raised his hand to show that he had nothing else in his hand, Clarke didn’t lower her hold of her knife. He said something to which Clarke couldn’t understand. Probably that language that the Grounders developed when the Mountain Men began to the process of slow annihilation. It was created so that the Mountain Men wouldn’t hear their conversations.

            Her confusion must have appeared on her face, for caution and awareness appeared on the man’s face. He must now know that she wasn’t one of them. That she was one of the Sky People. Yes, she forged a truce with the Woods Clan to take on the Mountain Men, which turned out to be for nothing as of two nights ago, but Clarke didn’t know whether he was a warrior or just a mere hunter. If the former, she frantically looked at his body to see which part would result in the most fatal injury before he could take her somewhere.

            “Put the knife down,” he said. Though his voice had a rough and husky edge to it, there was caution in his tone. As if he could see that she was scared. The way his palm was facing her and his stance, it would seem that way.

            Then again, it must have been showing with her visibly shaking hand.

            Without taking her eyes off him, slowly, she set the knife on the soil.

            “What do you want?” she asked the man, her voice slightly quivering.

            “That question would imply that I was following you,” he answered. “You would have to have a massive bounty on your head if I was. I merely stumbled upon you. What I want to ask: Do you have your friends with you?”

            A bounty hunter? Clarke never thought Grounders had those, but she was only on the ground since September. As for his question, Clarke wasn’t going to answer. He didn’t need one.

            The man scoffed after a few seconds of her silence. “Your silence is very telling,” he drawled. “It is dangerous for someone to be traveling these woods alone. Especially with no pack and only a knife.”

            If there was any threat in his voice, Clarke didn’t detect it. Yet, nothing evaporated the caution she was feeling around this man.

            As if trying to conceal any fright she had, she answered stiffly, “I was aware, yes, but I can take care of myself. Now, I must be on my way.”

            “If you were aware, you wouldn’t be traveling these woods alone,” he persisted. “Not with the Reapers stalking around these woods. Now, tell me where you’re headed, that way I could guide you there.”

            _He doesn’t know_ , Clarke thought to herself. With the Grounders, news traveled by word of mouth. She figured it would take a week for the entire Woods Clan to find out what happened at Mount Weather.

            As for this man’s offer, she wasn’t sure how to peg it. He wasn’t overly insistent but she still didn’t know what his motivations were. As for her destination, well, she wasn’t so sure.

            “I…I don’t know,” she rasped. “But I would do it without your help.”

            “Don’t know,” he repeated, before scoffing. “Then that only confirms that you haven’t been here long enough.” He looked up at the sky before turning to her. “A snow storm is coming. I suggest you come with me to ride it out in a cave, unless you want to freeze to death.”

            The first choice to Clarke was obvious: refuse his offer before continuing on her way. However, thinking about it, it would only end with him not giving her a choice in the matter and that she would be kicking and screaming as he dragged her towards a location.

            So, she sighed and said: “If you insist.” She made it clear that it was only because he insisted.

            “Don’t worry,” he said, as if he knew the meaning of her tone. “After a while, you will thank me for keeping you alive. Now, follow me.”

However, Clarke made sure she was walking alongside him to make sure that she didn’t have the temptation of stabbing him in the back, though she was more concerned about him doing the same in a _figurative s_ ense. Though, he didn’t say anything as they walked side by side.

            After what seemed like five minutes and when snow began spitting from the sky, she thought that they could see the mouth of a cave.

            “I’m going to see if anyone is hiding in there,” he warned as he pulled a arrow from his quiver. He turned to her. “Stand back. I don’t want to be the one carrying your dead body.”

            Sullenly, she complied as he approached the cave; pulling the quiver along the bowstring. He holds her back before he steps in the cave. His footsteps sounding inaudible. As if he purposely decided to remain quiet.

            Clarke looked back. She could do it. She could run off as to avoid sharing a cave with some strange Grounder. Though, with the spitting snow turning into flurries, it was either trekking through a blizzard and freezing to death or ride it out in a cave with the person she bumped into.

            The latter was a much smarter decision, despite how much she wished that there was a better option then the one she was currently involved in.

            “It’s all clear in here,” she heard him say. “Come inside unless you want to freeze to death.”

            Clarke grumbled under her breath. If he wasn’t so persistent on him tagging her along, she would have continued on her way towards the unknown. Then again, she wouldn’t be worried about being stabbed in the back if she never encountered him in the first place.

            She stepped forward into the dark cave as she thought she heard him gather some twigs. She kept her distance as she heard him grind one twig against the other; to create friction necessary for create heat for a fire. Something that she learned in Earth Skills.

            The smell of burning wood arrives before the smoke arrives. As the fire started, Clarke sat down but opting to sit far from her companion.

            He opened his bag and takes out a muslin pouch. From her peripheral vision, she could see him offering it to her.

            “Here,” he said across the fire. “Hungry?”

            Clarke looked at his outstretched hand. She knew taking something from someone she first met wasn’t a smart idea. Yet, she did not have anything to eat for a couple of days and she knew her sugar must be running low. She desperately needed food in her system.

            So, she decided to take the risk and took the pouch from his hand. Clarke could feel his eyes watching her as she pried it open. It made her uncomfortable, yet that didn’t stop her from taking a dried apple slice and popping it in her mouth.

            Clarke must have been halfway through the pouch when he asked. “Do you have a name?”

            The question made her jump. There was no demand in his tone. But rather a gentle curiosity. Looking at him, his eyes were the same way. Even if it was an innocent question, it didn’t ease the wariness in her.

            “I will tell you my name if I tell me yours,” she answered, knowing that she would feel more comfortable if it was the other way around.

            He rolled his eyes in annoyance, though he answered, “Roan.”

            Clarke raised her eyebrow. Usually upon introduction for the first time, Grounders use their clan of origin after their name. Like _Onya kom Trikru_ or Anya of the Woods Clan, for example. But he didn’t? Was he one of those cast-outs that the _Trikru_ would refer to?

            “Clarke,” she answered.

            “Well, Clarke,” he said, retrieving a canister from his bag. “What brought you to travel the woods with no food, with only a knife, and with no sense of direction?”

            Clarke doesn’t answer. For the bloody images of the Mount Weather Mess Hall after she, Bellamy, and Monty were forced to irradiate Level Five resurfaced. People lifelessly slumped in their seats and on the floor. That soccer ball on the floor, eerily waiting for a slain child to pick it up…

            “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” he continued, as he popped the lid open. “It might have been very personal for you.”

            _I don’t want to think about it_ , she thought. _Not that it isn’t personal_.

            “Me? I don’t feel like sparing too many details, but I myself parted from my people with no sense where to go either, years ago,” he continued. He scoffed and carried on, “Not that I had a choice.”

            _So, he was cast out_ , Clarke deduced. What did he do? Was he a thief? That was what the guy that supplied Finn false information was, she heard. It could be possible.

            Though she didn’t want to press on the matter, just as she didn’t want to discuss why she left her own people. Also –

            “How does being a bounty hunter and being banished from a clan coexist?” Clarke asked incredulously.

            Roan raised his eyebrow. “If you think being a bounty hunter is what I signed up, you are mistaken,” he answered. “Half of them are clan cast outs. The other half are Polis-born residents. We can’t really swear alliance with a particular clan.”

            Clarke guessed it made sense. The Commander probably didn’t want to risk any turncoats from bounty hunters due to clan tensions. However, when did Lexa ever honor a promise herself in the first place?

            Outside the wind was blowing and Clarke could barely see through the white out outside. Clarke lays on her side, her body heavy with fatigue from forty-eight hours of walking. Forty-eight hours of keeping distance from her and her people as much as possible.

            It was risky and she was fearful of what images might plague her but her body needs the rest.

 

* * *

 

            If Roan was certain, people would call him a fool for tagging this girl along while he was trying to find cover from the blizzard while traveling from Polis after receiving a bounty after turning in a wanted murderer (one of the conditions of his banishment was that he would have to make himself useful as a bounty hunter. Then again, half the bounty hunters were cast-outs). Gullible would have been another word for him too. Something that someone who had never fought in their lives would do.

            Especially when it came to _Skaikru_ , who have never done a positive thing ever since they landed on _Trikru_ territory, from what he heard. The most recent he heard was that they had to hand over the TonDC Mass Murderer in exchange for a truce. It usually takes news to reach here in three weeks. Not to mention that while he could hand over fugitives in Polis, he wasn’t allowed to stay there for a prolonged period of time as the Commander feared his people would find a way to sneak him back in _Azgeda_. He heard rumors that a ship landed on _Azgeda_ territory a month ago and he was certain that they were not given a warm welcome.

            They would have expected him to only seem to help her before plunging a knife into her heart and pulling it out after the life left her eyes. To kill her before she could possibly kill him. That it was the smartest and most logical thing to do. Even he admitted to himself that is what he would have done.

            However, Roan knew it wasn’t possible when he saw how violently her hand was shaking when she was holding that knife. How uncertain and terrified she was.

            It could have been as a result of years from being near his siblings. Back when he was a boy and while his father was taking his last breaths, his father made him promise to help look after his siblings with his mother. And Roan did just that, even if they were capable of protecting themselves.

            Lagertha, his sister and second in line to the throne, made it increasingly clear that she didn’t appreciate him looking after her like a hawk. Aspen, his young brother, was a impossible chore, always chasing girls and was shrouded by their mother’s poisonous influence at a early age. Always coming home bloody and with a smirk on his face after participating in a raid against a _Trikru_ village. Nymeria, his youngest sibling, was different. Always wanting him to tell her a story to calm her down when she was scared. Explained plots of various novels to him, knowing that he wouldn’t criticize her for loving stories.

            Nymeria would have been around nineteen now. Around the same age as this girl from the Sky. Perhaps it was because he would have done the same thing if his youngest sibling was frightened and with no sense of where to go.

            While he hated every single second of his exile, he was relieved that it was him instead of anyone of his siblings. Especially Nymeria.

            Then again, his mother cared less when she banished him, in return for joining the Commander’s Coalition. She only had him to prove that she was able to produce heirs, from what he heard, and despite the fact that he was eligible for the throne, she chose him to cast out over his siblings.

            It had to be him, right? Of course it would. He had no doubt. It was no lie that he wasn’t a favorite of hers. True, she was upset that she banished him but it was merely because she was upset that she lost a power piece. Roan scoffed, knowing that people would have mistaken that for heartbreak when he was merely a tool for her power plays.

            Hopefully Clarke had a mother that was missing her. That her mother was a better person then his own. A mother that was worried for her wellbeing. A mother that didn’t see her as a mere tool.

            He removed his blanket from his pack and rested it on her slumbering body as to shield her from the cold wind blowing into the cave. Depending on how fatigued she was, he didn’t have to worry about her rousing before the snowstorm will blow over. Most likely she’ll rouse when the storm has passed. People would be busy digging themselves out of the snow, so there was no worry in leaving her alone for an hour to hunt anything.

            She gave indication that she had no place to go, though Roan wouldn’t allow her to trek off alone. He will take her to Blue Cliff territory, where he had been staying for the duration of his banishment. It was a half a day’s walk from where they were located.

            It wasn’t as though he had no company. There was a farm a few miles away, where he got his food. Though personal companionship wouldn’t hurt in the slightest. Even if limited human contact was his goal.

 

* * *

 

            “How is he?” Bellamy asked as Wells met up with him in the corridor outside the eating canteen.

            Wells’ grim expression was enough for Bellamy, though he answered, “Still the same. Mrs. Griffin just sent Miller and his dad to keep watch on him. She’s going to order all firearms and sharp objects in lock up when he’s let out.”

            Bellamy nodded. It was only last night when Monroe found Jasper with a loaded gun to his head, prompting Chancellor Abby Griffin and Vice Chancellor Marcus Kane to place him on suicide watch for seventy-two hours. Just a day after returning to Camp Jaha and it’s like Jasper deteriorated overnight.

            Not that Bellamy wasn’t surprised. Jasper was an emotion driven person. After getting speared in the chest on the first day on the ground, after witnessing his friends getting killed by first the Grounders and later the Mountain Men, Maya dying in his arms must have what pushed him over the edge. He just wished the suicide watch was longer then seventy-two hours, as even with firearms and sharp objects out of reach, he would still find ways to hurt himself.

            “I hope they don’t just let him out of sight,” Bellamy vocalized. “If he’s alone, it would motivate him more to find ways to hurt himself.”

            “They won’t,” Wells’ assured. “The adults aren’t that stupid.” Wells paused, looking at the white out outside. “Well, they are brewing tea in the canteen. I’m going to see if there are any left and see if Raven would like a cup.”

            “Make sure that Wick isn’t there first though,” Bellamy advised. How Bellamy observed, Wick’s over attentiveness was agitating Raven. Who felt she was ready to work on her feet a day after being drilled for her bone marrow. Raven was tough as nails, which Bellamy would give her credit for.

            “I will,” Wells said with a small smile before turning to the eating canteen.

            Bellamy returned the smile, though it disappeared as soon as it formed when he gazed out the window.

            “Where are you, Clarke?” he asked, watching as the wind violently blew the snow. It’s been a day since her absence and he found himself avoiding every possible outcome that might have happened since then.

            He should have done more. Should have found the extra strength to prevent her from leaving. Part of him wished he would go with her, so they could both escape the emotional trauma that will soon manifest, even if it was selfish of him. But he let her go into the unknown…just like that.

            How Bellamy would give anything for sharing a cup of tea with her as they would watch their first blizzard. Though she would have wanted him to have it for her.

            Bellamy took a deep breath before heading down to the eating canteen.

            It was going to be difficult but he knew that Clarke would want him to help keep the morale among the group.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to jessytemple, LannaTex, and Rokharha for your feedback. More is always welcome.

_Her feet were rooted to the soil as she stood at the sight of the Mountain’s door. The stench of rotting carcasses perforating through the air. The ground littered with a combination of Skaikru and Trikru corpses._

_Though the sight that drained the blood from the surface of her skin was Clarke. Ragged, pale, and frail. The blood running down her arms and legs from the places the drill sunk into. If Lexa had the urgency to help her, the fiery revulsion burning from her blue eyes froze Lexa in place._

_“Clarke –” she choked._

_“You left me to die,” she seethed. “You left us to die.”_

_“Let me explain,” Lexa pleaded with the dead girl before her. “I never intended for this to happen. I thought you would talk your way out. Offer their leader a deal that he wouldn’t –“_

_“You think it’s that easy?” she demanded, as blood formed around the base of her neck. “You could have come for me. You could have saved us. But you…you decided to let me rot.”_

_Clarke’s head slid off her shoulders and as it rolled to her, her hair darkened a shade. When it reached Lexa’s feet, Costia’s lifeless grey-green eyes stared up at her._

            Cold sweat running down her neck, Lexa sat up. Slowing her breathing as to contain it. Shaking, she looked out her bedroom window to see that she was in the security and comfort of Polis. Though that didn’t erase the wretched images that haunted the facets of her mind.

            Lexa slumped back into her furs and blankets, allowing the tears to flow. She might have as well signed Clarke’s death warrant when taking the deal from that Mountain Man. Just as she did Costia’s when she decided to continue the relationship after the Conclave against Titus’s wishes.

            Oh how she wished Anya knocked her out cold before she took the deal.

 

* * *

 

The sun had barely reached the horizon but as Roan expected, the blizzard had ceased. Most likely around midnight, because that was when the wind stopped blowing snow into the cave.

            Quietly, as not to wake the slumbering _Skaigada_ nearby, Roan retrieved his bow and quiver of arrows before soundlessly approaching the mouth of the cave. He turned back, to glance at her before he could think to continue on. Out like a candle.

            Yes, she was most definitely going to rouse awake after he returned. Probably the smell of roasting kill would rouse her, no doubt. People always awoke to the aroma food. It was part of human nature.

            Roan turned forward and continued his way out the cave. The cold air slightly stiffening the dried mud concealing his facial scars.

            Once he was a good distance from his shelter, he began to scan the area with his eyes and ears for sounds of wildlife.

Archery, like sword dueling, were among the things he learned in his early years before his banishment. Though hunting for sport was done primarily by the higher class. Nobody would even think that a prince would pick up a bow and quiver of arrows to hunt for food. That was something members of the Royal Guard and what common people did. A prince was supposed to fight for his people, yes, but hunting for food would be considered below his stature.

Fast forward five years and here he was, banished and having to rely on hunting for food while traveling. Though, as much as he missed the roaring waters of the Niagara Falls, the company of his young sister, the company of Echo (one of the many of the spies from the Royal Guard and his former lover), and the pristine white snow and glacial mountains of _Azgeda_ , he didn’t miss living a another second of under his mother.

He snorted. _If only she could see me now_ , he thought snidely. He smirked in satisfaction, knowing that the sight of him dressed in rags and mud concealing his facial marks would draw anger from her. If he had his way, he would walk into the throne hall in this state. Just to piss his mother off.

His mother would have ordered him to clean off and put on his royal garb. A task that Echo would have happily volunteered for. Oh, Echo. He sighed sadly. Back when they were young, they both made some youthful pact that they would someday run off together. Those words being said days after they kissed six years ago in one of the caves by the Niagara Falls. Though, it was like the progression of their lives proved that those words were empty and idealistic. He remembered the regret in her voice when she refused his offer to leave _Azgeda_ with him just a few hours after his mother ordered him to leave, per orders of the Commander and her stupid Coalition. Just moments after he and Echo slept together, as some gesture of farewell.

“I can’t,” Echo said those five years ago. Barely hiding the fact that her voice was breaking. “I have to remain here. If I leave, I will be considered a traitor to Ice Nation.”

Though he understood, he still craved for some familiar companionship. However, he didn’t want to persuade Echo into doing something that would risk her trouble from his mother. However, Echo didn’t understand how easy it was for his mother to choose him of her four children to cast out. She told him, “You are at the age where you are aggravated by her, Roan. It’s only natural. You will go past that. Trust me.”

Like that would happen. He doubted it would. From the womb until he was banished, he felt like he was nothing but a tool to his mother. It was like Echo tried to understand, but it didn’t seem that she couldn’t register how bad it actually was.

He heard a twig snap and turned his head to find the source. Yards away, behind the dead trees, was a deer. Sniffing around the snow for any vegetation that might be submerged under the snow.

If Roan learned one thing, hunting animals for food and hunting fugitives to receive a bounty have one thing in common: tracking the targets movements and stealth. To get a good catch, you have to make sure your movements are not known. Otherwise your target escapes from you.

Only one requires more care in execution.

He locked his eyes on the target before pulling out an arrow and pulling it back along the bowstring.

There was nothing else in the area. Just him and the deer he was hunting; the target grazing on a piece of grass that was exposed from the snow. Once he was for certain that there would be no disturbances in the area around him, he set the arrow free.

It wasn’t long that he was dragging the deer back to the cave. Whatever they won’t eat, he would preserve in sea salt so the venison wouldn’t spoil. He couldn’t afford for Clarke to die of botulism under his watch.

 

* * *

 

Echo watched the sun come up from the glacial mountains as she sat on the bed. Her bare body wrapped in furs. She always loved the sight of the sun rising from the mountains. The way the sun’s rays reflected off the snow.

She felt the bed dip and turned to see her robe clad companion offer her a metal mug steaming with what she could assume was hot chocolate.

“ _Here_ ,” she offered. “ _Something to warm your nerves_.”

She took the mug and smiled. “ _Thank you, Costia_.”

The name was forbidden, as her lover was forced to take a new name (Eirwen, specifically) as part of her new identity. Captured because of the fact that she thought she knew Commander Lexa’s secrets, she was only spared once it was learned that she bled like night. She was placed in the royal guard and in the dwelling where Echo resided with her parents. Echo only called her by her original name in private as to gain her trust.

When Roan tasked her to watch over her before he departed, Echo never thought it would come to the point where she developed some sort of feelings for her after they went from acquaintances to friends. Never thought that it would come to the point where they kissed as they lay in bed together to keep each other warm during Azgeda’s cold winters. Never thought that it would come to the point where that kiss progressed to necking which culminated to lovemaking and they fell asleep with their bare legs tangled together as their skin touched. Echo told her then that she loved her.

Though Echo didn’t expect for the relationship to be permanent. For Costia craved intimate companionship from being separated from her lover. Something that Echo craved as well since Roan’s banishment. Some might say Costia and Echo were each other’s substitutes. Though she didn’t lie when she told Costia she loved her. She might not have loved her as she had Roan but it was still love nonetheless.

Costia curled her plump lips in a smile and Echo felt her move closer as she sipped from her drink.

“ _You think she might ask you?_ ” she asked, draping her hand over her shoulder. “ _Ask you about the Mountain?_ ”

The Mountain. It wasn’t a surprise that Queen Nia would debrief her about her experiences. Echo wasn’t ready to tell her about how they were kept in cages small enough for animals, how they were shock-batoned before being hung upside down to be drained, that _Skaikru_ boy who helped her and other prisoners before the Mountain decided to free them…

Bellamy. There was a moment where she wanted to go back there and get him out. Take him to _Azgeda_ with her but didn’t. She didn’t because she was afraid to. Afraid what would happen to him.

She slightly nodded. “ _Yes_ ,” Echo said, feeling hollow. “ _I’m not ready. How do I explain to her majesty that I allowed Reapers to capture me on a reconnaissance mission in Woods Clan territory?_ ”

Fingers touch her face and Echo finds that her eyes meet Costia’s grey-green irises. “ _I will be there_ ,” she assured. “ _Don’t let her grind you down_.”

She pressed her lips against her forehead before returning her gaze. Though her words were comforting, Echo wasn’t ready to think about facing the Queen to recount her experiences.

She needed something to take her mind off it for an hour or two and it was sitting next to her. For she set down the cup and allowed the furs to fall from her body. Slowly, she untied the knot keeping Costia’s robe together before slowly peeling it from her body. Keeping her breathing steady as she took her hand and placed on one of her breasts.

“ _Yes, but right now_ ,” Echo said, leaning to kiss her before finishing her sentence. She continued against her lips, “ _…I want to escape from it_.”

Both girls breathed against each other’s lips before Costia kissed her and slowly, the fire formed within it and Echo found herself lying on the bed with Costia above her. Hardly a barrier between their bare bodies.

“ _Nia can wait_ ,” Costia said, brushing her hair from her forehead. She then opened Echo’s mouth before kissing her deeply.

It was a hour, though for Echo, it seemed like an eternity. Every second dragged like it were days, though she didn’t seem to mind much. For she would rather be in this passionate haze with her forever then relive her horrors and be haunted by her demons.

When it ended, Costia laid beside her. Breathing deeply, she placed her head on Echo’s chest and closed her eyes. Echo, feeling hollow, stroked her dark blonde locks.

It’s been five years since he left and it seemed like the image and feeling of him was fading. If he was fading, then she wanted the memory of how Costia looked and felt like to be branded in the memory tissues of her brain.

 

* * *

 

Roasting venison. It’s the aroma that was enough for Clarke to rouse from her sleep. She did not know how long she was out. She could only assume that it was a long time as it didn’t take her long to be lulled into a deep slumber.

            Rubbing her eyes, with one arm, she lifts half her weight up with another palm. Outside, the sky was an azure blue, with a thick blanket of snow covering the landscape before her. Some of it sloping into the entrance of the cave. Behind her was the crackling of fire.

            “Someone has decided to wake up,” she heard Roan say from behind her.

            Clarke turned her torso to see him standing near the fire, which was roasting a fairly recent kill. She didn’t notice him leaving the cave and returning. Basically showing how out of it she was.

            “How long was I out?” she asked him as he turned the roasting stick.

            “From yesterday afternoon to now,” he answered. “I left to hunt for breakfast early morning after the blizzard cleared. Figured that you would need more to satisfy your stomach then dried fruit.”

            It was an understatement, considering the fact that hunger was gnawing her stomach. For her, venison seemed very good to eat. She hadn’t eaten meat or any real food since before they were marching to the Mountain.

            She simply nodded. “Yes, thank you,” she said.

            Roan simply nodded before focusing on his task once more. Clarke inches closer towards the fire to warm her hands. They weren’t completely frozen, though her fingertips felt cold.

            It must have been thirty minutes until the venison was thoroughly roasted and cooked. Roan pushed a slab of venison on a stick before handing it to her and then serving himself. She sinks her teeth into the juicy and hearty meat; looking at the venison as she swallows. No trace of pink or blood. Then again, the Grounders haven’t completely forgotten how to properly cook food.

            In between bites, she would sneak a look at Roan as he ate. Pondering what to say and what to do. He helped her find shelter before a blizzard and not to mention sharing his kill with her. Yet, that doesn’t mean he won’t stab her in the back later on. There was still caution regarding this man.

            Trusting a Grounder after Lexa’s betrayal was risky itself but trusting a Grounder that has been cast out from his clan for reasons unknown was riskier. Sneaking off will be risky since he would follow her by her footprints. It would be best to thank him for his help and bid him goodbye. That she’ll be able to take care of herself.

            She didn’t want to tie him down either.

            She was mostly done with her breakfast when he spoke: “Have you made up your mind where you are headed?”

            Clarke bit her lip. How was she going to answer that one? She swallowed. “I will know when I see it,” she answered, hoping he would drop the subject.

            If she expected him to refrain from the topic, she found out she was wrong. For his eyes narrowed and gave her a sidelong glance. “Only an idiot would continue to trek through here alone without hunting supplies, food, and gear to protect you from the elements,” he said. “You will not last a day.”

            “I took Earth Skills up in the space before coming down here,” Clarke hisses, blood rushing to her cheeks. “I will be able to survive without anyone’s help. Without your help.”

            “You can tell yourself that when you’re starving and freezing to death,” he countered, with a roll of his eyes. “Unlike you, I know exactly where I’m going and I would hate to leave you walking alone after a blizzard.”

            It didn’t take long for Clarke to realize where he was going with this. “Me? Come with you?” she asked in bewilderment. Judging by the way he said it, it wasn’t spontaneous. It was as if he thought about it and slept on it. That made it worse. “As I said, I am fully capable of taking care of myself, Roan.”

            Roan sighed before rolling his eyes. “Very stubborn, are you?” he asked. “That stubbornness might help you with some things but denying assistance with stubbornness is fatal.”

            “What makes you so sure?” she demanded.

            “People often die due to their stubbornness,” he persisted. “If you had food and a hunting weapon, I would allow you to leave but because of your lack of such, I cannot in good conscience leave you out of my sight.”

            Clarke blew air into her cheeks. He wasn’t going to let this drop, was he? There were two options: either run from him and risk him running after her before dragging her to his destination with her struggling or going with him willingly Either way, the outcome was bound to result with him stabbing her in the back later on, anyway.

            Though she would rather not do so while struggling.

            “Alright,” she spits out. “You win. I will go with you.”

            “You are not an idiot after all then, Clarke, I can give you that,” he said.

            Sooner or later, she was going to regret that decision of going willingly.

 

* * *

 

            The snow didn’t stretch far as they trudged through the woods. Gradually it went from a thick blanket to small pockets of snow on wet and pale soil. Judging by the sun’s position, it must have been noon by the time they both reached a sign that said _You are entering Blue Cliff territory_ under a circle with two arrows running through it. Blue Cliff Clan. Clarke vaguely remembered Tristan making a small mention of them and from a map she saw the previous week, the clan was located in the Appalachian Mountains. Nothing else though.

            “I figure that you never met anyone from Blue Cliff, have you?” he asked.

            “No,” she answered. “I only know the Woods Clan and a few mentions of Ice Nation. Though I think Blue Cliff was mentioned once.”

            “Best here and not Ice Nation,” he divulged. “They don’t quite fancy newcomers.”

            _Doesn’t every clan, though?_ she thought to herself. Remembering when the spear hit Jasper in the chest as he held up the Mount Weather sign while shouting in victory. Remembering that he was strung up on a tree as live bait later.

            She said no more as they continued on. Making sure that she was beside him, as she didn’t want the risk of walking ahead. For it might increase the chances of him stabbing her in the back. Though she found herself accepting an offer of beef strips and drank from his water container when he offered it to her three hours ago.

            There was nothing but the crunch of grass on their feet and the sound of birds chirping in the trees. If there were any warriors around, they were most likely hiding in the trees. Though that was more of a _Trikru_ thing, as what from what she observed, their earth-toned hued clothes gave them the advantage to blend in with the trees.

            Either any warriors were waiting from somewhere to attack or were letting them pass, Clarke found the environment strangely receptive. As if they knew one of the parties that was passing through.

            Giving that he made known that he was cast out, he couldn’t possibly be from Blue Cliff. Otherwise they would violently escort them from the territory. It’s possible that he was simply residing here after having been cast out. Though if they didn’t want him to have a bias towards a clan with his status, why here and not Polis?

            However, that could be because they didn’t want him to have close contact with anyone of his original clan.

            It was probably twenty minutes of traveling through wilderness when Clarke roughly made out the form of a structure. Upon closer examination, it resembled something of a cabin. Sturdy, though slightly dilapidated and with the algae on some of the logs.

            On one of the beams holding the roof and the slanted porch together was a black cloth tied around it. Clarke couldn’t understand the significance of that one, though.

            “This is where you live?” she couldn’t help but ask.

            “Where I stay if I’m not tasked to track somebody and bring them to Polis,” he answered. He took out a set of keys from his jacket and inserted it in the padlock keeping the door shut. She heard the sound of the lock cracking open before he disconnects the chains.

            The door creaked open and he entered first. Clarke stayed rooted in her spot for a few seconds. She took a deep breath, gathering her courage, before she ascended the wooden steps.

            Wood creaked under her feet as she passed through the doorway. The smell of dust and pine seeping into her nostrils. The room she stepped into wasn’t small but it wasn’t large either. There was a chair, sofa, and a bookshelf, a wooden table surrounded by two wooden chairs, a cast-iron stove, and a water basin sitting on a medium drawer nearby. There was an archway on the right hand of the wall facing Clarke, leading to another room. The only bedroom, most likely.

            Not much different from the residential cabins she peeked into at the Woods Clan’s military stronghold village; days before everything melted down a couple days ago. Then again, low status Grounders had smaller and basic accommodations compared to higher ranking Grounders such as Tristan and Anya, who resided in larger homes that survived the Nuclear Apocalypse.

            The door closed. Following by the sound of him unstrapping his quiver and sheath.

            “Make yourself comfortable,” he offered as he unfastened his overcoat from his torso.

            Clarke watched him approaching the water basin before sitting down on the chair. She ran her sweaty palms over her pants. She turned her head towards the window next to her, as she heard him dipping cloth into water. Outside, stood a few pine trees situated before what looked like a hill and she thought she could make out the top half of a structure or two. Probably half a mile away from where she was sitting.

            “Who lives in the house a mile away?” she asked, still looking out the window. He rung out the cloth and dipped it again in the water.

            “It’s one of the farms located in this territory,” he answered without a beat, as if he knew she would ask that question some point. “Where I get some of my other essentials. One can’t just live off killed game.”

            She turned back to where he was cleaning the mud off his face with the basin. Though the mud was coming off, Clarke thought that she could see facial scars on the side of his face; as if some of his skin was unearthing from the caked and dried mud.

            Clarke learned two things about Ice Nation: that they were responsible for the death of Lexa’s first lover and that they use facial scarring as a form of identification. The latter which was pointed out to her by Anya mere hours before the missile hit TonDC.

            But no mention what each scar represented.

            Now, she knew what clan he was banished from.

            “Did you do something that ruffled the Ice Nation Queen’s feathers?” she asked before she could stop herself.

            He turned towards her, looking at her as if she was asking the wrong question. “Being brazen now, are we?” he asked. He finished cleaning his face before opening the drawer. “Right now is not a good time to answer that one. Now, we’re both starved, so I’m going to make us some dinner.”

            Knowing that he was going to dodge the question again if asked, Clarke looked around the room in order to distract herself. There was no paper and charcoal lying around for her to draw with, so she might as well settle on some literature.

            While she wasn’t into reading as she was into drawing, they had one thing in common, though: both provide escapes from reality.

            She lifted herself to her feet and approached the bookshelf. There were some of the titles that she recognized from the Ark (like _1984_ , _Brave New World_ , and _War of the Worlds_ ), among other titles that she wasn’t familiar with.

            Clarke randomly pulled a title from the bookshelf and sat on the couch before reading the cover. _Les Miserable_ by Victor Hugo. She learned about Victor Hugo in English class on the Ark but only had access to one book, and the form of that story they had was of that corny musical that was in the media archives.

            Knowing that it wouldn’t hurt to read a better and older rendition, Clarke slowly and carefully opened the book. As she had, time passed. The rays of the sun shifted in the room signifying the change of the time of the day. It went from hearing food being prepared to smelling the aroma of bear meat, carrots, and potatoes filling the room.

            She was halfway through the book when Roan said, “I know you have been waiting to eat a real meal for some time. Might as well eat before the food gets cold.”

            Knowing that it meant dinner was ready, Clarke set the book down and approached the table where she saw that he already prepared both their plates. Each with equal proportions of food. Clarke sat down at one end of the table and tried to steady her fingers as she cut up her meat.

            Not looking at the man sitting with her. Bear meat didn’t disappoint it the few times she ate it back in Dropship camp and currently, it wasn’t subpar. Probably the sea salt that was used to preserve it.

 

* * *

 

            _Did you do something that ruffled the Ice Nation Queen’s feathers?_ rang into his head as he glanced at Clarke for a few seconds before resuming his meal.

            If Roan had to be honest, it seemed like merely existing ruffled her feathers. As if he was a burden to her.

            “You realize what I had to sacrifice when I had you, Roan,” was one of her words she said to him. Roan himself had a hard time pegging what she actually meant by that. Considering that she was born into the royal family. Her youth, maybe? Perhaps the days before his father impregnated her? They would qualify as the same thing.

            Irony was, she basically had him just to get access to the throne. As she had to produce a child to ensure the continuity of the bloodline.

            How Roan saw it, Clarke only needed to know that he was banished from Ice Nation for the moment. If she wasn’t comfortable enough to reveal what led her to run away from the rest of the _Skaikru_ , he won’t reveal why he was cast out. That way they were even.

            If she craved the answer to that question, he was going to have to build trust with her. For that to work, she would have to build trust with him as well. Trust was a two way street in Roan’s mind.

            As for her sleeping accommodations, he wouldn’t be against sleeping on the sofa in order for her to sleep on his bed.

            When dinner was done and the plates were cleaned, he went to retrieve spare blankets and a pillow. Knowing that she would think he was preparing the sofa for her, Roan said, “Well, since there is one bed, you might as well have it.”

            He unfolded the blankets and she asked, “What about you? Where will you sleep?”

            He sighed. Is this girl really this dense? “Why else would I be preparing the sofa with blankets?” he asked.

            Another pause. “I see,” she acknowledged. “Thank you and…good night,” she added before disappearing into the back.

 

* * *

 

            _“When you’re really pissed off, you always find a project, something to keep your hands busy, so you don’t punch someone in the face.”_

Finn’s words registered to her as Raven furiously slammed the circuit door shut before sealing it tight with a screwdriver. Though Sinclair said the electricity was in working order, Raven felt the need to perform some maintenance on electricity switches; in hoping to avoid slugging Kyle Wick across the face later.

Wick. He was annoyingly attentive once they all returned from Mount Weather. Most likely so she could forget what he said after she slept with him before they were dispatched to Philpott Dam to shut down Mount Weather’s generators. What was it with older men and their entitlement to everything? The ten year age disparity should have been clue enough. They were both adults but Wick was more of an adult then she was.

“As I said, figure it out,” he said hours ago. “Don’t play this game with me after everything that just happened.”

“Just because I shagged you once, that doesn’t give you the right to be entitled to a relationship with me!” Raven exclaimed to him three hours ago before storming away from the room just so he wouldn’t get the final say. She wasn’t going to allow him to guilt her again for her grief.

Footsteps echoed near her as she was almost done with her task of sealing the door shut. Raven snorted. Probably Wick coming to attempt to worm his way back to her good graces with a empty apology. She was going to pretend he didn’t exist as to avoid the temptation to –

“Found a project?” asked Wells.

His voice made her jump slightly though relief flooded her. Just Wells Jaha.

She sighed and said, “Just completed performing maintenance. Sinclair says it should be fine but some tweaking wouldn’t hurt.”

He was silent as she paid her attention on the last screw but neither did she hear him walk away. She was putting away her tools when he said: “I heard what happened with Finn. I’m sorry.”

Raven felt the tears begin to stream, the sight of Finn tied to the pole with the blood pooling on his shirt after Clarke mercy-killed him resurfaced. She nodded. “Thanks,” she choked.

“As I said then, if you’re willing to talk, I’m there to listen,” Wells offered. “You don’t need someone to take you for granted like he is currently doing.”

He said that when he discovered Finn’s infidelity and saw the look on her face when he still looked at Clarke like some school boy with a crush. Did Wells happen to hear her and Wick’s argument? It would make sense.

Back on the Ark, Raven barely knew Wells Jaha but easily written him off as a “pretentiousness, high and mighty little shit” due to his father being the Chancellor. She was surprised when she learned that he was one of the hundred delinquents that were sent down but her opinion of him was hardly changed until she reached the ground. She realized she was wrong about him after witnessing that he was willing to get his hands dirty by helping maintain the camp. When he offered to be an ear regarding her troubles with Finn. When he tried to take care of the others when the Grounders sent Murphy (who was captured after running from the failed peace talks at the bridge) infected with a virus, even though he would get sick himself.

He obviously didn’t get that from his father.

“I haven’t forgotten,” she said, curving her lips with a smile. Which he returned with a nod.

When Finn died, it was like her entire family was murdered before her eyes. Though they say that your friends were also your family.


	3. Chapter Three

           

            Clarke found it highly unusual that Roan would give up his bed to her and sleep on the couch instead. She wouldn’t have minded to sleep on the couch, as it would be selfish to take anyone’s bed.

            That didn’t stop her from pulling the curtain to conceal view of the room before stripping down to her camisole and boxer shorts. Clarke pulled the furs and blankets back before carefully getting on the mattress and pulling the covers over her. The mattress wasn’t firm but not lumpy enough that she would sink in.

            She pulled the cover over her chest and tried closing her eyes. Hoping that the nightmares don’t start. They didn’t come for her the last time, though she assumed that it was because she was lulled into a deep sleep due to sleep deprivation the nights before then.

            It must have been an hour or two until she was able to fall asleep. Outside, she could hear the wind swaying the trees and the owl making its occasional calling noise. Helping her lull deeper into sleep, even if she knew what it might bring.

            Hours must have passed, when she found that she was not in the strange cabin in the forests of the Blue Cliffs but her bare feet were touching the stone floors of the Mount Weather compound. All around her, lights were flickering and the turbines keeping the radiation out were moving in the opposite direction then necessary.

            Chatter was coming from the Mess Hall ahead. Casual and joyous conversations emitting from the room along with someone playing _Piano Concerto No. 5 in Minor_ on the piano. A melody that she remembered playing in the Mess Hall hours before Clarke sliced her stitches against the nail on the bed when she wanted to see what Mount Weather was doing. It was like someone was brewing tea.

            Slowly she stepped towards the room and as she grew closer, the chatter quieted down, the tune faded, and the stench of burning flesh arrived to her nostrils. She could feel the heart pounding in her chest, her stomach contents curdling, and cold sweat running down her body as silence rang from the room and all that remained was that putrid smell. Though the tea lingered.

            Arriving at the door of the Mess Hall, she was greeted by the image of adults, teenagers, and children slumped in their seats or lying on the ground. Their skin blistered red from being cooked from the inside out due to the radiation. Lying on the floor was that soccer ball, eerily waiting for its owner to pick it up and resume playing with it.

            The kettle blows.

            Clarke sat up, gasping for breath and with sweat running down the back of her neck. Outside, it was like the sun had yet to reach the horizon and she could smell tea from the main room.

            Hands shaking, she threw the covers off and swung her legs around the bed. Clarke snagged her trousers and pulled them on before pushing her feet into her boots. She pulled her shirt over her body as she pulled the curtain to the side.

            There was Roan, pouring steaming tea into a metal cup. He looked up as he saw her and asked, “Slept soundly in there?”

            She bit her lip, wondering how she was going to answer that one. “Was good until I had a nightmare,” she said before sat at a table.

            Roan placed the steaming cup and carefully pushed the cup towards her before turning back towards the kettle. “Don’t we all?” he said huskily. “What kind was it?”

            “Just one of those things I don’t feel like discussing right now,” she answered, hoping that he wouldn’t inquire what it was. The content wasn’t something that she felt like discussing at the moment. He didn’t need to know the demons crawling to her door.

            “You don’t have to,” he said, as he poured himself a cup of tea. “Now, I don’t think you would have any reservations if we both made breakfast.”

            He made dinner the night before and since she came out alive after that meal, it wouldn’t hurt if she helped with breakfast. He took to peeling the potatoes; leaving Clarke to crack open two eggs and slice two pieces of ham.

            Mashed potatoes, ham, and scrambled egg. A farmer’s breakfast, one might call it.

            “I might have to go down to the farm to retrieve more eggs and milk, as I’m close to none of each,” he said upon sitting down in front of his plate. Looking at Clarke, he asked, “Ever traded an item for goods before?”

            “What?” she asked, the question catching her in mid-bite.

            “Trade,” he repeats. “Down here, you offer goods in return for necessities. Though you might have done something different in that Space Castle orbiting around the Earth.”

            From Clarke’s limited knowledge of the Grounders, they had no currency. Though if they did, Anya would have said something.

            As for things in the Ark before she was sent down –

            “We had assigned rations,” she answered. “Sometimes we would trade our rations for luxuries, if we could spare one.”

            “Interesting,” he notes, cocking a head to the side. “Then the Coalition’s barter system shouldn’t be hard for you to figure out.” he scoops up eggs with his fork. “Now, depending on how long we’re going to live under the same roof, what do you like to do?”

            “What I like to do?” she asked, rattled why such a man like him would care.

            “Doesn’t everyone have a hobby?” he asked. “It would be strange if you didn’t.”

            Well, Clarke had a few but one was more important to her then the rest. One that helped provide escapes from reality. It helped her during that year she was incarcerated for knowing about the Ark’s dying life support system.

            “I draw,” she answers.

            Roan nodded. “Not a bad hobby to have,” he answered. “I can see if they have any charcoal and paper to spare. One of the residents down at the farm works in the lumber industry.”

            Industry. Each clan had one, she heard. As a way to share resources from a particular territory. Woods Clan was cotton, Boat Clan was fishing, Ice Nation was masonry, and that’s all she knew.

            “Well, when you are not going after criminals wanted by the clans, what do you like to do in your spare time?” she asked. Any distraction from her demons were welcome.

            He pauses, as if he’s thinking that question over. “What I like to do?” he repeats the question before shrugging. “Depends what it is, though I like to read a good book once and a while. Sometimes I indulge in wood chopping.”

            “That’s not bad,” Clarke said before continuing with her breakfast. Not bad at all.

            “Have you ever tried a hand at chopping wood?” he asked her.

            Thing is Clarke actually chopped wood a few times in her early days on this planet. Partly to show the other delinquents and Bellamy that she wasn’t some privileged princess who never got her hands dirty. Once for trying to release anger after Wells’s revelation about her mother.

            “Yeah,” she answered. “I have watched the others chop wood, so I tried myself. I didn’t want to come as soft.”

            Roan chuckled as he curled his lips in an amused smile. “I will tell you what,” he said. “After I teach you some of our language, you help me chop some wood. We have one log for firewood as it is.”

That wasn’t a bad comprise. For Clarke would need an excuse to chop something in order to take out the growing anger against Lexa which border lined to murderous. She dreamed about spitting on her face and hurling every angry word her way.

            Now she imagined her hands around Lexa’s neck and strangling her into the life left those green eyes of hers.

 

* * *

 

How Abigail Griffin saw it, there was no other way she could go about this. When they did a supply count, there was no lying that things appeared grim. They only had food to last them for a week and a half. Their medicine supplies disturbingly had only three days to last.

She thought about sending Lincoln out to retrieve some herbs. Abby read everything about medieval medicine and Lincoln could teach her how to implement it. Though she wasn’t sure if it would be the right thing to risk his life in the process. For all Abby knew, the Woods Clan’s agreement with the Mountain Men still stood, as it was unknown whether they learned about the Mountain’s fall. That they would have it in for Lincoln who went AWOL.

Regarding Mount Weather –

“They will realize that the place is empty,” assured Marcus, the Vice Chancellor and her friend, as they watched some of the guard escort a handful of people from Camp Jaha’s gate.

Abby took a breath and exhaled. There was no doubt that some work needed to be done before they could retrieve whatever goods were in the Mountain. They would have to take care of the bodies first. They were probably in the process of decomposition now. It would take hours to remove over three hundred corpses.

Though worrying about the gruesome process was nothing compared to the worry that was nearly consuming her regarding Clarke’s self-imposed exile.

“I bear it, so they don’t have to,” were her words according to Bellamy Blake before she walked away from the entrance. Leaving without knowing where she would be heading, as Bellamy said that Clarke wasn’t certain about her destination.

She brushed away a tear as soon as it left her eye. It wasn’t that Clarke left without saying goodbye that broke her heart. It was because she was frightened of her daughter trekking aimlessly alone towards territory that remained unexplored, at least by them. There was the horrifying possibility that she could have crossed the border of another clan’s territory. She had heard recently that the Woods Clan had problems with another clan going by the name of Ice Nation five years prior.

The image of her daughter returning as a bloody and mangled corpse as a message from a hostile clan is what drained the blood from the surface of her body.

Though Abby had come to terms that her daughter was strong. She tried protecting her once she reached the ground less than a month ago but it was like she grew up overnight. It said as much given her willingness to embark on dangerous missions to save her friends.

 _She stopped being a kid the day you sent her down here to die_ , Raven’s words echoed in her memory bank.

Thinking back, perhaps sending her to the ground wasn’t when Clarke stopped being a kid. Perhaps she stopped being a kid when she watched her father fly out of the air lock and was locked up in solitary in the SkyBox for simply knowing what her father knew. All done by Abby’s own hand even though she didn’t plan it that way.

 

* * *

 

Fallen leaves crunched under their feet as they descended the hill, carrying animal furs over their backs. From a distance, the residence behind Roan’s cabin was decent sized; surrounded by a fence and smoke coming from an exhaust pipe. Another building nearby as well, where the animals must be housed.

            “I should remind you that they don’t speak English,” Roan said. “There are a few clans where the civilian population is just as bilingual as the warriors but Blue Cliff isn’t one of them.”

            There were only six clans where the general population was bilingual, according to Lincoln. They were the Woods Clan, Ice Nation, Boat Clan, Glowing Forest, Broadleaf Clan, and the Lake People. The other six, English was only accessible to warriors.

            “So what must I do?” Clarke asked.

            “I’m going to say that you are recovering from a cold and lost your voice due to excessive coughing,” he answered. “I don’t want you to be surprised when lunch becomes some sort of oral session.”

            “Okay,” she sighed. She didn’t like this. No matter the intentions, feeling dependent of someone wasn’t her strong suit.

            When they reached the bottom of the hill, their feet crossed the dirt path leading towards the gate. The smell of hay perforating through the air. It didn’t take long for the gate to unlatch and for the two of them to approach the door of the dwelling, for nothing could abate the uneasiness in Clarke’s stomach.

            Meeting any sort of Grounders was an uneasy task.

            A man exits the building, holding a crate, and as they pass him, Clarke could feel his eyes on her. Though she caught him turning his head to see if he was looking at him. She didn’t know why he would seem to know her.

            Unless he saw her at TonDC before the missile hit. Was he there with the Blue Cliff ambassador, by any chance?

            Roan pushed the door open and passed through first. Gesturing for Clarke to follow behind him and she exhaled before complying. He starts conversation in the language with an occupant in the room, who Clarke sees is a blonde woman that appeared to be in her mid-thirties – probably who Roan referred to Belinda, the woman running the farm/trading post – standing behind a counter.

            Clarke helped set down the fur pelts at Roan’s gesture when they approached the woman’s counter. When she gave Clarke a side glance and looked back to Roan to ask a question, Clarke was certain it was the explanation Roan said he would give.

            She must have bought it, for she continued with the transactions as if it was business as usual. Clarke tapped her fingers against the counter, looking around at her surroundings. There were crates with books and various sorts of trinkets, barrels with bows, and other sorts of odds and ends that one could possibly think of with the back of their minds…

            Though it’s like she saw something familiar glint in one of the crates.

            The woman disappeared through another door and it was like he was waiting for her to be out of earshot before he asked Clarke, “Doing okay here?”

            “Fine,” she answered, though Clarke wouldn’t say she was fine with the ever present demons haunting her.

            “Good,” he answered. “We should be heading back soon.”’

            It was a few minutes later that they were retracing their steps back to the cabin. Clarke holding a handcrafted sketchbook and drawing charcoal; with him carrying a crate of eggs and milk.

            Though it was stretch, Clarke was hoping for a berry bush nearby. As if she going to be seen by others, she would have to change the color of her hair for a time.

 

* * *

 

            The Mount Weather complex reeked of decomposition and burning flesh. So much so that they all wrapped their faces in pieces of fabric to avoid passing out from the stench.

            Not willing to relive the bloody and gruesome aftermath in the Mount Weather Mess Hall, Wells decided to go into the President’s office to retrieve some items. Records. Censuses. Anything that would explain why they took the path they did.

            They had information stored on computer but he knew that they would keep records on paper. They had to as they tried to preserve every piece of art and literature from the Nuclear Apocalypse. While looking through the cabinets, most of what he encountered so far was census and binders that looked like they logged every single event that happened within the Mountain within the last two hundred years.

            Just the things he was looking for. Considering that the Woods Clan’s scouts were watching them, he would have to wait until they went to Camp Jaha to read them.

            He continued rifling through the files when he saw something labeled _Project Black Heart_.

            The wording, though seemingly offering no clue as to what it meant, made his skin crawl for some reason. Though he wouldn’t have put it past the Mountain Men to commit another atrocity since they drained Grounders for their blood, murdered his acquaintances and some of his friends for their bone marrow, and not to mention he heard from Bellamy and Octavia that they turned Lincoln to a Reaper.

            He slipped the folder between the rest of the binders. Though he knew that whatever he might read might nauseate him.

           

* * *

 

“Star.”

            “ _Skaifaya_. From sky-fire, if that helps.”

            “ _Skaifaya._ ”

            “Not bad. Choose another word.”

            “Earth.”

            “ _Graun_. Gra-Un.”

            “Gr…graun.”

            This has been happening for a half an hour. She says a word and he offers a translation. It was his idea to teach her in form of a word game, as Roan thought Clarke wouldn’t tire easily. Though that didn’t stop her from starting on her newly acquired sketchbook and him from sharpening a knife with a whetstone.

            “Good,” he answered. “Choose another.”

            Clarke paused, like she’s deciding which word would go next. “Wolfsbane,” she answered.

            “ _Feisbona_ ,” he said. “Feis-bona.”

            “ _Feisbona_ ,” she repeated, before cracking a smile and stifling a giggle. “Sounds like face boner.”

            He set down the whetstone and sighed. Of course, there was no doubt that she was going sass him during this session. Then again, he had his own share of sass. That feature about him was one of the things his mother despised about him.

            “Very funny,” he said with a roll of his eye. “As if I didn’t think you would make a jab at pronunciations.”

            “Well, your language does sound like common words,” she said, continuing her sketch.

            “Doesn’t any language in the world?” he asked. Truth be told, outside communication was cut off due to _Praimfaya_. Though those languages survived through text, they were virtually dead languages.

            Clarke looked up from her sketchbook; raising an eyebrow at him.

            “What other word do you have for me?” he asked. A staring match wasn’t what Roan wanted. Nothing that he had the patience for.

            “Fur,” she said after a moment.

            They continued the word game for another hour and it continued when they were preparing lunch. If Roan had any indication, it would have been more of a chore if she mispronounced most of the words. Though he helped with pronunciation to avoid it.

            When one learns a language, help with pronunciation was vital. As that’s how he saw it.

            They took a reprieve when their lunch was thoroughly cooked. Conversation in between bites was one thing but learning a new language carried the risk of food getting stuck into one’s windpipe.

            After two minutes of virtual silence, Clarke broke it by asking, “So, bounty hunting. Is it different then hunting wild game or similar?”

            Roan suppressed a sigh, though he knew she might ask something related along the lines of bounty hunting. Especially after he asked her what her hobby was. This was predictable.

            “You always have to track your target without knowing they are being followed, that is one similarity,” he answered, turning his fork. “Sometimes, you leave bait. People on the run tend to be attracted to unattended supplies. Especially if they have been on the run and coming short.”

            Clarke nodded slightly, as if processing his answer. Turning back to his lunch, he pondered what to do afterwards. They could go outside and they’ll both chop wood, as he promised. Therefore –

            “Have you ever used someone as bait to lure a fugitive?” she asked.

            Before he knew it, Roan found himself spitting what food he had in his mouth before he could digest her question. Did she just – did she just make the assertion that he would use someone to get to another? Including particular dangerous fugitives?

            No, that was something that he didn’t even consider an option.

            “Some of the people I go after are often murders and often run away armed,” he pointed out, cleaning the spat out food from his plate with a fork. “Often dangerous. In other words, it’s not worth the risk.”

            Roan hoped that Clarke would move along towards another subject or continue eating. He would be proven wrong however.

            “Not if you were careful and if the other person was careful,” she said.

            If she was suggesting that she would aid him in procuring criminals, she wasn’t being very subtle about it. Was this _Skaigada_ on Jobi Nuts or something, because no one with a clear mind would offer themselves as bait?

            “If you’re offering, thanks but no,” he answered. “That is not a risk I would wish on anyone, even if they think they can take care of themselves.”

            Clarke’s blue eyes glowered. As if his words were some sort of insult. “I slit a man’s throat and suffocated him in his blood a month ago, and I committed much worse things than that,” she seethed, her face flushing red and her fingers shaking. “Things I don’t feel like discussing with you. You don’t know me well enough to say that it would be dangerous for me.”

            Given her stubbornness over how she could manage her welfare as well as the brazen question regarding his banishment, Roan shouldn’t be surprised. Though she wasn’t flushing red or shaking the previous times. As if she was fatigued of people underestimating her abilities.

            He could try to convince her that this was a stupid idea, though that wouldn’t be a wise idea since she was currently slicing her piece of wild turkey with a fork and knife. He didn’t know her well enough to know her capabilities but he didn’t want to find out.

            This Sky Girl had to be the most stubborn person he ever met aside from Echo. Which he happened to be annoyed by yet covet at the same time.

            “If you want to risk your existence by being fugitive bait, suit yourself,” he grumbled. “Don’t expect me to let you off the hook.”

            Roan hoped that he wouldn’t regret taking Clarke in, as it might take some patience regarding her stubbornness.

 

* * *

 

            Though the magnitude had yet to fully sink in, Clarke would do anything to distract herself from the aftermath of Mount Weather. She thought putting distance between her and the others, that she wouldn’t be reminded of what she did. Given her nightmare from last night, distance didn’t seem to help. It’s like her mind needed some form of escape.

            More than sketching and reading could suffice. So, why not help with luring criminals to a trap? At least she wouldn’t be forced to kill anyone to save another person.

            Imagine her surprise when Roan initially opposed the idea, as it would have been a risk for her. The surprise which quickly turned to anger as the blood reached her face. She could say it was due to the weeks of her mother underestimating her capabilities before what happened at Mount Weather followed by this Grounder’s doubts of her being able to fend for herself without supplies and now this. Clarke hated being treated as she couldn’t handle anything after all the hell she endured and witnessed.

            Roan gave in; probably part of him knew that he didn’t want to find out for himself what she would do. Something she didn’t want to resort to herself.

            Upon finishing up lunch, she followed him outside. Probably going to chop firewood. It would only make sense, as he made mention of chopping firewood during breakfast.

            Her thoughts were confirmed when she saw an axe on a makeshift chopping block, a wheelbarrow, and some logs nestled nearby.

            So, she just stood by and watched with folded arms as he set a log on the tree stump and hacked it in half with the axe with little to no trouble. Carefully analyzed his movements. She had seen how the boys and girls back at the Dropship camp wielded a makeshift axe to chop wood. How it didn’t take them long to handle the axe with ease.

            The axe seemed feather light in his hands, demonstrated by the great ease he handled it. As if he’s held heavy weapons in his life, aside from an axe from the looks of it. Probably swords and such. He could have been a warrior before his banishment, which might explain it.

            Clarke didn’t hesitate when he offered the axe to her. She took the axe by the handle as she walked past him. Picking up a heavy piece of log with her hands, she sets it on a flat end.

            In its place, she imagined Lexa’s head. She brought down the blade to the log, embedding it onto the surface until it broke neatly in half. Clarke imagined brains and blood everywhere.

            Clarke gets another log. She imagined Lexa’s blood and brains splattering on her face.

            A third log. It was her entire body that she found herself hacking up.

            It must have been six or seven logs later that her arms started feeling heavy and she was breathing heavy. Clarke set down the axe and bent over to catch her breath. Panting, she turned her gaze to Roan; who was looking at her with raised eyebrows.

            “Feel any better?” he asked.

            “Yeah,” she panted.

            He cocked his head in thought. “Whoever crossed you the wrong way, that person should be lucky that you took it out on pieces of wood then them,” he observed.

            Perhaps he’s been in the same position: angry at someone to the point of fantasizing he was killing that person when doing task while chopping wood or anything. That or he’s perceptive.

            Also, Lexa should be lucky that it were logs that were hacked up instead of her.

 

* * *

 

            They often said that size was no guarantee of someone’s temperament, and recently, Clarke proved just that. Roan scoffed to himself. If she was stubborn, there was no doubt that a temper would come with it.

            Obviously, this _Skaigada_ held some sort of grudge against someone. Judging by the anger which she wielded the axe to cut the wood. Among the options of why, Roan crossed out the possibility of anger towards an old flame. That would have been petty and predictable. It had to be much worse than that and the other options remaining were more plausible then the next.

            Though it could be any of those options.

            When they returned to the cabin with the pieces of wood, Roan decided that the next step was to teach her phrases as it would take forever to use just a word game approach. Though he hoped she would spare taunting the language this time around.

            “With the introduction, the clan comes after the name,” he reminded her. “Though in your case, it’s best to leave that out. The Sky People are not very popular people here. You’d be surprised what stories reach the Blue Cliffs.”

            “I wouldn’t be surprised,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “How much have you heard?”

            A few. The burning alive of three hundred _Trikru_ warriors, and the massacre of eighteen people in TonDC. A month ago at Polis, Roan did hear from a passerby that they launched missiles and burned a small _Trikru_ village – which only contained civilians – to the ground; claiming twenty lives. For the _Trikru_ warriors, they were bound to die anyway. Death is always expected when you launch into battle. The TonDC Massacre, on the other hand, was different. Probably with civilians involved, especially regarding children and elders.

            Civilian casualties were unnecessary bloodshed in his opinion.

            “I could understand the Ring of Fire,” he answered. “They were bound to die anyway. Though with what happened in TonDC, well, that is something that I can’t find reason with.”

            She bit her lip. As if she was wondering how she would proceed with that answer. “He was scared,” she answered. “He made a mistake while trying to find me and his friends. He thought they had us when it was actually the Mountain.”

            It was like his stomach contents couldn’t help but curdle in disgust at her defense of that perpetrator. People who killed civilians were cowards who were afraid of taking the fight to a capable warrior. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” he answered. “I should have expected such when encountering someone from the sky.”

            “It was a valid that he came to that conclusion,” she argued.

            “Like raiding a village before killing eighteen civilians?” he countered. “Children and elders included?”

            Clarke shook her head. “That was messed up, I get it,” she said, “but excluding that, _Trikru_ has been attacking my friends ever since we landed, virtually for no reason at the beginning. They speared my friend just for holding up a sign of Mount Weather after crossing a river the first day and strung him up for live bait, we tried negotiating with them and they had archers in the trees that were ready to attack us. I could go on but you probably know based on what you might have heard.”

            “No reason,” he repeated, as he couldn’t help but ludicrous it sounded. True, she had a right to be upset but it would be odd for the _Trikru_ to attack newcomers for no reason. What happened to the wait and see technique that they often employed? Attacking newcomers forthwith was something that _his_ clan did. “ _Trikru_ don’t attack for no reason. They usually wait to see if someone was going to pose a threat.”

            “Did you ignore the part where I said he was attacked for holding a sign?” she demanded.

            “A Mount Weather sign, as you said,” he pointed out. “The people who did that probably thought he was allied with them. That he was actively taking part in what they were doing. If he just held a sign, that’s not a threat. They probably thought they would preemptively take him out and from what I hear, that is against _Trikru_ code.”

            Clarke looked as if she never thought of that possibility, though it didn’t seem to stop her line of defenses. “Okay, I could see why but it was still an unprovoked attack,” she said. “Against their code or not, they did attack us from the beginning they landed. Regarding the bridge, well, one of our own meant well by arranging the meeting but at that point, we brought back up. We couldn’t trust them.”

            “And I suppose that they brought their backup,” he answered. “They would after that village was burned down.”

            “Those were signal flares,” she said. “We had to communicate with our friends and family somehow. We had no communication with them.”

            “That is your truth,” he answered. “They, on the other hand, weren’t there when you made that decision and they saw was what happened on their end.”

            Clarke bit her lip, as if she was thinking over those words. Judging by the rumors he heard and given her defense of her people, it was safe to say that both groups had valid reason to distrust the other. That this was a war where both sides are neither right nor wrong, which was an extremely rare occurrence.

            “If you were originating from Ice Nation, why would you care about _Trikru_?” she demanded. “Your queen… had beef with the Commander.”

            It was like she wanted to say something else but refrained from saying it. Probably because she thought he wouldn’t know. Irony was that his mother sent Lexa a decoy head while keeping Costia within Ice Nation. His mother wasn’t going to let a _Natblida_ die under her thumb.

            It was as if Ontari wasn’t enough for his mother.

            Not only was he banished because of his mother’s apparent sin. He was banished for something that didn’t technically happen. As to why Clarke probably knows, she probably heard about Costia from someone within _Trikru_ sometime after that truce was made.

            On the other hand, vitriol for _Trikru_ aside, Roan knew that had it been his clan, they would have done the same thing. Only that _Trikru_ reacted in the less extreme then his people would have.

            “It’s not that I care about them,” he answered. “I simply understand their motivations, they saw you come down and some reacted in the defensive. Did they attack you soon after that incident with the spear?”

            Clarke drifts off into thought before saying, “No. everything was quiet for a week until one of us went missing and the search party was chased by _Trikru_. That was after the flares.”

            _Probably was an isolated incident_ , he thought before continuing, “Based on what I heard and what you are telling me, it seems like the both of you have valid mistrust of each other. You are neither right nor wrong. You only believe what you see of the other and predictably, you would only see yourselves as the good ones and the others as savages. That first incident sounded like it was isolated. Especially if nothing happened in little over a week.”

            Clarke swallowed, like she was thinking it over.

            “Are we going to go through with teaching you this language?” he asked, wanting to change the subject.

            She paused before saying, “So I introduce myself without the clan?”

            Exactly,” he answered. “ _Ai Laik_ …followed by your name.”

            “ _Ai…Laik…Klark_ ,” was her answer.


	4. Chapter Four

                “… _it seems like the both of you have valid mistrust of each other. You are neither right nor wrong. You only believe what you see of the other and predictably, you would only see yourselves as the good ones and the others as savages. That first incident sounded like it was isolated.”_

            Clarke never saw it that way. It never even occurred to her that the both of them had valid reason to not trust each other. That they only believed what they saw of the other group and predictably reacted on the defensive if they felt they were threatened.

            No weapons were the agreement of the failed meeting at the bridge. Anya bought her archers while Clarke brought her backup consisting of Bellamy, Raven, Murphy, and Jasper. And from there, conflict erupted. They didn’t seem to acknowledge that one of them speared Jasper, though Tristan did say, “They were probably hung for attacking too soon. Two men were executed because they attacked one of your people a day after you landed.” Clarke never thought much of it, as she presumed Tristan only said that due to the alliance. To give her people the impression that they weren’t savages.

            Until Roan pointed out that it was actually illegal in the Woods Clan for preemptive attacks. It confused Clarke at first why he defended them before coming to the conclusion that his defense was out of understanding rather than sympathy and friendship. Ice Nation and the Woods Clan had bad blood ever since the first years after the Nuclear Apocalypse from what she heard. Given Roan’s knowledge of their techniques, it seemed he took the time to understand them merely for reasons of combat. They always say to understand their enemy in order to figure what steps to take.

            Clarke couldn’t close her eyes easily that night, for she was burdened over the same thoughts over and over. Trying to see both sides of the conflict and each time the difference between her people and the Grounders deceased. The next morning, Clarke was shaking from her realization as she peeled apples for breakfast. Barely aware of Roan slipping out of the cabin for a minute. Probably to relieve himself.

            Last night, before their argument, she didn’t tell him that part where she believed Finn killed all those people for her. They didn’t know each other all that well to share intimate details. Not to mention it was something she didn’t feel comfortable discussing. Just like he didn’t want to divulge the details of his banishment.

            It’s as if he wanted them to be even. She would share something and he would share something about him in return. Which Clarke didn’t have any reservations against at the moment.

            It was better this way then him knowing everything about her without giving information about himself. Made him less likely to stab her in the back. Though it would make it difficult to manipulate him.

            She had begun slicing the apples when Roan came back inside. Muttering a string of what she deemed were untranslatable profanities as he carries a piece of cloth.

            “They never learn from the stories they hear, don’t they?” he said as he threw the piece of cloth on the table. “If this bastard did, they wouldn’t be offering a box of trading trinkets for his capture and he wouldn’t have a bounty on his head.”

            Clarke set down the knife and picked up the piece of cloth. On top was a sketch of a man. His face with scars running down one side of his face though it looked as if the other side of his face was burned. Underneath, the words were written in that language or Trigedasleng as they called it.

            “What do they want him for?” she asked, hoping Roan could give some rough translation.

            “He killed the younger brother of an ambassador,” he answered. “They think he’s somewhere around here. Otherwise, the notice wouldn’t be posted here.”

            From what Clarke read during Earth History, bounty hunters usually offered to catch the runaway, if they were either up to it or there was a reward that they desired. That didn’t seem like the case here, after two hundred years.

            “You don’t take up assignments on your own?” she asked.

            “No, it would be messy,” he answered. “They usually choose someone if the fugitive is in their territory of residence or nearby.”

            Well, that confirmed it. At least in Clarke’s mind.

            “Might as well store away the apples to take with you,” he continued. “The more time we take with breakfast, the farther this bastard is going to be out of reach.”

            She gathered the apple slices and placed them on one of the small muslin pouches lying on the table. Clarke was tying the pouch shut when he placed a quiver of arrows in front of her.

            “Do you know how to shoot or did they deem that pointless up there?” he asked.

            Archery. It was one of the things taught in Earth Skills. People have made bullets as far back as the American Revolutionary War and the French Revolutionary War, though they were told there might be a time when firearms would be out of reach. That they would have to rely on bows and arrows to hunt for wild game. Only she, Wells, and a handful of people seemed to have paid attention, as they were able to hit the bullseye target after some practice while most missed their target after not paying attention to how it was done.

            Then again, her peers didn’t seem to find the point in Earth Skills. Even though they were going to be the generation to return to the ground, since it was said the Earth would be survivable after two hundred years. Around her eighteenth birthday specifically.

Though they learned it was not survivable for everyone.

            “I can shoot,” she answered. “It was thought that it was important, though most didn’t see the point of learning archery.”

            “When you’re orbiting around the Earth, that doesn’t surprise me,” he answered. His words followed by a snort. “It’s a wonder they didn’t starve to death.”

            She wanted to say that her people use firearms to hunt but decided it was best to refrain from broadcasting that piece of information as she wasn’t sure if Roan echoed the other Grounders’ anti-gun sentiment. Odds likely he despised firearms like the rest of them. Without a word, Clarke strapped the quiver to her back; clasping the strap shut across her torso.

            “I put together a spare pack two weeks ago if something happened to my other one,” he said as he placed a bag in front of her. “With you here, at least it will get some use.”

            Clarke slung the bag across her torso. She would rifle through the contents if they stopped somewhere. She didn’t want Roan to get on her case about holding them up.

           It was ten minutes later when they were distancing themselves from the cabin. The arrows bouncing around from behind her. The late autumn air felt cool and crisp against her face, with the smell of pine accompanying it.

            “Even if it’s just suspected that he’s around here, why go around looking as if you knew?” Clarke asked to break the silence.

            “When one is on the run, they make the stupid decision of stopping for supplies,” Roan answered. “They don’t know that the post traders would tell anyone that they were present. That they would give them the direction they are headed.”

            Clarke nodded. “Why act stupid?” she asked.

            “Criminals are never smart to begin with,” Roan answered. “Otherwise, they wouldn’t pull the shit they do.”

They approach a puddle of dried mud and Clarke watched as he crouched to dip his hands in before smearing the sides of his face with the dried mud. Due to his comment on bounty hunters not being bound to a clan, it was like he didn’t want people to see his _Azgeda_ facial scars.

It made perfect sense how Clarke saw it.

Now she needed a berry bush to spot so she could hide her blonde locks. Because people would be sure to recognize her if they pass her.

 

* * *

 

Hot chocolate. It was a luxury on the Ark, as due to the limited quantities only the privileged could have access to it. For their first trip to the Mountain, they could only retrieve a few items as they weren’t sure if any Grounder scouts would spot them. Medicine, a few boxes of food, and some books. Among those things were boxes of hot chocolate and whipped cream.

They spent most of their time in the Mountain disposing of the bodies and for Bellamy, Maya’s was the hardest. It was hard to believe that Maya, who was so determined to not give Cage what he wanted by helping to hide his friends, had been dead for a few days now. She saved his life and it was like he could never repay her.

The other thing they brought back was Maya’s iPod and earphones, as Bellamy felt that Jasper would appreciate having some part of him with her. Though he had Miller give him the iPod as he wasn’t sure he would take kindly to his presence.

“Here, nice and hot,” said Gina Martin as she pushed a mason jar of hot chocolate. Topped with whipped cream. “I didn’t know whether you would like whipped cream, though I added it anyway.”

“Thanks,” he choked, picking up the mason jar. He carefully tipped the jar to his lips. even with the cold cream on top, he didn’t want the hot chocolate to scald his lips.

It was rich and sweet. Decadent would be another word. Just like the lifestyle the Mountain Men lived before their gruesome end.

As he set the cup down, he thought he saw Gina’s lips curl into a smile.

“What?” he asked.

She laughed softly. “Just the look on your face when you took a sip,” she answered. “Though, who could blame you, right? It was in limited supply up in the Ark.”

“Limited to the point where the privileged received the rations,” Bellamy stated.

“You were in Factory Station, as well? If I recall correctly,” she said.

“Yes,” he answered. “Obviously, my family wasn’t among the privileged.”

From Bellamy’s memory, he had a few classes with Gina Martin. One in which he sat next to her. One of those memories was when she would pass notes to him in class, which detailed how much she fancied him. Then again, she wasn’t the only girl with a crush on him, as girls in his class tried throwing themselves at him (though Octavia’s existence made the prospect of having a love life difficult). When he joined the Guard, he heard that Gina was tasked with sorting food. Organizing it to prevent contamination as allergies weren’t extinct after the Nuclear Apocalypse.

“So, what have you been up to?” he asked her.

If Bellamy needed a distraction from whatever fallout happens, making small talk with an acquaintance from the Ark would do.

 

* * *

 

Night fell as they reached their first trading post. If Roan was certain, his companion seemed to be showing no sign of fatigue. Especially after they have been walking without stopping. Like she was on some sort of adrenaline.

It was only a few days but if she was the kind of person that wouldn’t sleep for a few nights in a row with intervals of sleep in between, that wouldn’t have surprised him. She was pretty much silent during the long trek, though. Not that he had any reservations against it but it was rather irritating.

They stopped at the door and he asked her, “Do you want anything while we are here?”

She shook her head and answered, “No, I’m good. Anyways, I don’t want to hold you over if this person knows this guy’s whereabouts.”

He rolled his eyes. She volunteered to be bait yet hasn’t acknowledged that they were both taking part in this objective. He would be the one to ambush the person, yes, but she would be the one to lure him to him. Therefore, making that a team effort.

“Don’t talk,” he said before opening the door. He thought he heard a sigh from behind him as he entered the trading post.

Clarke was obviously someone that didn’t like being told what to do. Add that on the list to her apparent stubbornness.

The soles of his boots creaked against the wooden floors as they entered. At this time of night, it was unsurprisingly desolate. Save for the man behind the counter, putting away a crate. The post trader – or Pryderi, as he heard some bounty hunters refer to him as – turned his attention to the door and from where Roan was standing, he could see that the man jumped slightly.

Obviously, he was still skittish around bounty hunters. If Roan recalled correctly, a few bounty hunters that he acquainted briefly don’t play nice if they feel like someone is withholding information regarding a fugitive.

There was a reason people proceeded with caution when approached by a bounty hunter. In Roan’s recent memory, no one came out unscathed when giving bounty hunter’s false information.

“ _How will I require your services tonight?_ ” he asked. The question was vague, though Roan knew that Pryderi knew why he was here. The only time he ever stopped here was if he was looking for somebody.

“ _You know why_ ,” he answered as he approached the counter. He spared a gaze at Clarke, who was looking around the building before turning to the post trader and reached into his overcoat. “ _Have you seen this man?_ ”

Roan produced the notice from this morning and slid it in front of Pryderi, who looked at the sketch with recognition. Though the man was wary around bounty hunters, he didn’t hesitate to give information if a fugitive entered his trading post. He wasn’t stupid enough to want to be beaten in a bloody pulp.

“ _Aah, I saw him_ ,” he answered. “ _Passed through here an hour ago. Said he was heading east_.”

East. From where they were standing, that means he was heading towards Woods Clan territory. Having been an hour and since this man originated from the Delphi, he was already stupid enough to rest, though there was a chance that he was still on foot.

In any case, he was going to get that bastard shortly before he lost his tracks.

“ _Thank you for your help_ ,” Roan said before taking the notice and inserting it in his jacket. Looking at the door, he saw Clarke opening it a crack. As if she was pondering something.

Given her stubbornness, he had no doubt that it would be something stupid. Like deciding to trek on foot alone even with the knowledge of a murder on the run.

            “ _Time to move on_ ,” he said, as he walked towards the door. Roan knew that she wouldn’t understand a word she said as she was starting to learn the language, as he merely wanted to get her attention. It worked, it seemed, as she turned to glance at him. Her brows furrowed in confusion as he opened the door wider.

            “What was that?” she asked, as he closed the door behind them.

            “That was me, saying that it was ‘time to move’,” he answered. He looked up at the sky. “He headed east about an hour ago. This way.”

            There was a short pause before he heard her follow.

 

* * *

 

            Stars. They were a constant thing in Clarke’s life. As a child, the stars were one of the only things she saw as she would gaze out the window from her parent’s compartment in Alpha Station; though the Earth, sun, and moon would accompany it.

            The stars would be their compass, as she was taught in Earth Skills. That they would find their way home if they lost their way. Though Clarke memorized maps of the nighttime sky, which helped her when she reached the ground, she was for certain the Grounders had such information memorized longer.

            Clarke remembered asking her father when she was younger about stars. Of what they would say if they talked. He said, “I’m sure they will tell us countless of stories, if they could.”

            Tears pricked her ears as she stroked the band of her father’s watch. What would he say if he had known the atrocity she had committed barely a week ago? What would he say about her leaving her mother and her friends behind? He would be more then disappointed.

            Moments ago, Clarke was contemplating slipping out of sight again. Rippled with anxiety, she wasn’t sure if she wanted solitude or the company of a man she met a few days ago. For a moment, she was deciding on running. That minimal human contact was preferable; but Roan interrupted her before she could make such a decision.

            Speaking of the devil –

“What have we got here?” he murmured as he came to a stop. He bent down and picked up what looked like an arrow. Though it didn’t mean anything to her, it probably rang a bell to him. “One of the ways you can identify a clan is how they make their arrows.”

“Meaning...?” she asked.

Roan stood up. “The guy we are after is from the Delpi, and it seems like he hasn’t been here not too long ago. He could be anywhere around here, though he could have crossed the border into _Trikru_ territory.”

 _Trikru_ territory.

“And where is that at?” she asked, anxiety creeping up the cells of her body. She didn’t feel like walking back to anything familiar. Anything that reminded her of everything that transpired only recently.

“Not far from where we are standing,” he answered before moving forward. Grass crunched under their feet as they continued east and Clarke could swear that a knot was tying tight in her stomach.

His target was a murderer. Wanted for killing the brother of a clan official. If anything, he was most likely armed and dangerous. Yet, she offered to lure fugitives so her companion can catch them.

As if she had some sort of death wish. Maybe she did.

It was like that knot would snap when they approached the sign that they were entering Woods Clan territory. Easily identifiable as they claimed the biohazard sign as their symbol.

“He could be around here,” he said before turning to her. “Are you scared?”

Scared that she might get injured, killed, or something worse than the latter two by this fugitive? The first two, not so much but the last possibility made her insides curdle.

“No,” she answered, not trying to give away the fact that her voice was quivering.

He paused, though he nodded. “I’ll be several paces behind you,” he answered. “Not close enough so he would suspect I was following him but enough so I got my eye on you.”

Was he assuring her that he’ll make sure that nothing would happen to her? It would be a bold move for someone who just met her, though Clarke read it was nature for decent humans to look out for the wellbeing of others.

Though Clarke didn’t hesitate to nod and say, “Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

 _“…and were ready to clear out when Orion found him near the falls_ ,” Echo heard from Freya, a guardsman from the White Forest patrol, during dinner at the mess hall.

“ _Looked party frozen_ ,” Costia continued as she tipped her cup to her lips. “ _Heart was still beating but it’s bewildering how someone could come all the way up here during a blizzard without freezing first_.”

Echo shook her head as she stabbed her pasty. What was it with some people who thought they could brave _Azgeda’s_ unpredictable and fierce winters while on foot? Anyone with a brain would travel by wagon. It’s a day wagon ride from Polis to Gara, weather permitting.

Unless it was one of those Marauders from the sky that landed a month ago. A ship landed where the eternal snow started and though members from the Royal Guard outpost killed a few of the intruders, she heard that they were still around, as there were reports of _Azgedakru_ being found dead. Civilian and warrior alike from what looked like unprovoked attacks, as they were often found with slit throats.

“ _Was he one of the Sky People that landed?_ ” Echo asked. “ _Perhaps he could give us some information about the rest of his lot_.”

“ _As it turns out, seems like he’s one of the parasites that were giving the Woods Clan problems for a century and a half_ ,” Freya answered, “ _which only makes it more bizarre_.”

Her fork slipped from her fingers and landed in a clatter from on the floor. Mount Weather? That wasn’t possible. They were all weak to the environment. They would burn up. Unless –

“ _Show me_ ,” she said. Shaking as she stood up. Bellamy was _Skaikru_ but he was wearing the garb that the parasites wore in order to infiltrate the Mountain. It was possible that the Guard simply mistook him for a parasite due to the garb he wore.

The three of them exited the eating canteen and the snow crunched under their boots as they crossed to the stockade. If it was Bellamy, Echo knew what to say: That he wasn’t from the Mountain. That he was _Skaikru_ but he literally had the Mountain Men take him to drain instead of her. That she would be dead if not for him.

One of the guards opened the door as soon as they saw them. The air was rife with the stench of sweat, urine, vomit, and feces, though Echo had smelled worse in her life.

“ _There_ ,” Costia gestured as she stopped before one of the doors. She stepped aside so the other two could spare a glance. When Echo looked through the bars, she could see that the prisoner was older and with a larger frame.

Relief flooded every cell of her body. It wasn’t Bellamy after all. Though that didn’t stop disgust from consuming every cell of her body when glancing at the parasite.

“ _When he wakes, hopefully the Queen will be kind enough to have me be the one to force some information from him_ ,” Costia continued, looking at the parasite like he was nothing but something disgusting found on the bottom of her shoe. “ _I should be the one given the task_.”

“ _Not so fast, Eirwen_ ,” Freya said. “ _We all know your little vendetta against those parasites. The reason she wouldn’t give you that assignment is that you would wind up killing him._ ”

“ _He should be dead_ ,” Echo vocalized. How Echo saw it, his mere existence was why Reapers took her to the Mountain to be harvested.

At least Roan had the self-preservation to avoid capture by the Mountain Men. Like a portion of cast outs, he was forced to make himself useful by catching fugitives; at least according to the ambassador. That he wasn’t allowed to stay in Polis long because for fear they would smuggle him back in Ice Nation.

Though there were times that his years of banishment would come to a close and that he would be coming through the city gates.

 

* * *

 

The only light available to them was the stars, which made seeing things difficult. Though Roan tied a piece of yellow cloth to Clarke’s quiver of arrows to make her easy to see. He stood behind a tree, watching her walking through the collection of trees yards away.

While she was visible to him, she was also visible to who they were hunting as well. It was a risky situation but she offered to be bait. Though if anything happened to her, it would be all on him for not keeping close watch on her.

He slowly moved forward. Making sure no twigs snapped under his foot, as giving his location away would be bad for the both of them.

Clarke looked back, as if to make sure that he was behind her, before moving on quietly. At one point, she bent over and gazed at the ground before picking up what looked like a knife.

 _If that knife is his, he’s definitely around here_ , Roan thought to himself as he stalked closer. If that idiot was dropped his knife, it was a clear sign that they were on his trail. However, if he found out his knife was missing –

“Dammit,” he said under his breath as he ran closer to where Clarke was standing before concealing himself behind a tree. Clarke looked around like she heard him.

A twig snapped.

Roan watched as Clarke slid the knife in the sleeve of her overcoat before taking an arrow from her quiver and pointing it towards the darkness. She walked forward, instead of staying put.

What was she doing? Was she some idiot?

It wasn’t a second that Clarke stepped forward when it was when she was pulled towards a tree. Blood reaching his hands, he took one of his swords, though he clearly heard scuffling nearby. There was a howl of pain before Clarke sprinted forward towards his hiding place.

With the murderer running close behind her.

He didn’t have time to think when he took handfuls of the fugitive’s jacket. Heart pounding as he threw him to the ground. Roan hadn’t placed his sword to his chest when his feet were sweep kicked from beneath him.

Roan growled in frustration before reaching for his sword. Stabbing his target in the leg. His burned and scarred face scrunched in pain as Roan stood up, though pain didn’t seem to prevent him from knocking the sword from his hand with his uninjured foot. Therefore taking possession of it.

This person wasn’t obviously going to be taken without a fight. He wasn’t the first either. Roan took out his second sword, hoping to disarm the fugitive before knocking him out. The heart pumped in his chest as he dodged a swipe to the stomach, yet felt a searing pain was felt in his left arm.

His right hand was about to take the sword from his left hand when Clarke emerged from whatever hiding place she was at. Like her height didn’t stop her from reaching up and wrapping her arm around under the man’s jaw. He grabbed her arm with both hands, trying to pry them off as she pressed her arm forward.

It didn’t take long for his eyes to roll to the back of his head before slumping.

“I had it under control,” Roan spat out in irritation as Clarke allowed the fugitive to fall to the ground.

Clarke didn’t answer as she bent down to check his vitals. “He’s alive, if you were concerned,” she said, looking at him.

He released a strangled snort. He didn’t like that she acted as if he never knocked out people using their pressure points. Personally, the jaw was his pressure point of preference. “I have done it before,” he scoffed, “so I don’t need reassurance. Now, let’s tie him up before he wakes up.”

Though aware of the searing pain in his arm and aware that he might be bleeding, that didn’t stop Roan from bounding their captive with a rope. Little pain wasn’t going to stop him from doing his task.

However, the concerned glance on Clarke’s face as she looks at his injured arm said that he wasn’t going to able to treat his wound.

 

* * *

 

She contemplated running. Clarke thought about using Roan’s fight with the fugitive as an opportunity window to seek complete solitude but she didn’t. He was holding up good in the fight but even so, the fugitive would have found a weak spot to exploit. Therefore, bringing him down.

Also, Clarke couldn’t afford to be responsible for another death. This time born of negligence rather than desperation to save her people.

Roan located an underground cellar – where a house probably once stood in the days before the nuclear war – and when they were concealed, he tied the unconscious man to one of the pillars in the basement before starting a fire.

Clarke emptied her bag and analyzed its contents. Bandages, her apples, a small container containing herbs, and a water container which felt empty. The bandages and medicine could be of use. Hopefully, Roan would be thoughtful enough to let her go to a trading post while he’s handing over his captive in Polis.

She didn’t think she could contain her homicidal urges regarding Lexa if she stepped foot in that city.

She put away the contents as she watched him remove his shirt from his torso. The blood oozing from a gash inflicted by the fugitive. Clarke read all about medieval medicine and the medieval wound care. In fact, it was one of the things they learned in Earth Skills. And wound cauterizing was one of them with heated blades were one of them.

            Clarke watched as he picked up one of his knives, possibly to heat the blade, though that didn’t prevent her from approaching him with the roll of bandages.

            “Let me help you,” she offered.

            Her offer was returned with a roll of the eyes followed by a scoff. “I can take care of this myself,” Roan replied. “It’s not like I never cauterized my own wounds before.”

            She felt the blood reach her cheeks. People said that she was stubborn. Bullheaded as well. Though it seems like Roan’s stubbornness could match hers. Also, depending on how long they will be in each other’s company, he was going to trust her with this.

            Though, did she fully trust him yet?

            “Just let me help you,” she insisted. “I’m not undermining your abilities but you’re going to have to let me fix you.”

            He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes before passing the knife to her. Clarke bent down and heated the blade until it glowed red. When she pressed the heated blade to his gash, it’s like the scorching heat didn’t faze him. As if he had cauterized his wounds to the point of where his pain receptors didn’t register it anymore. That or he had a high pain tolerance.

            Perhaps it was the same for most Grounders.

            Clarke set the blade aside and tore a piece of fabric from the roll of bandages. Aware that his eyes were on her as she wrapped the wound, yet it didn’t bother her for some reason.

            “Were you a healer?” was his question as she tied the bandage together.

            His question had her meet his eyes with her own. For a time, she was surprised that he hadn’t assumed that she was a leader of her people when she told him her name; as that’s how Lexa and the other Grounders saw her as. Though it’s entirely possible that he was slow on the uptake, given his banishment status. That he had yet to find out.

            “No, but my mother was,” she answered. “She taught me everything about medicine and how to treat wounds.”

            _She is also the Chancellor last time I knew_ , she wanted to say though she refrained from such. Such information could be risky.

            “Then I guess she taught you well,” he answered, curling his lips into a small smile.

            Clarke couldn’t help but smile herself. Though, since he knew a little more about her, it was her turn to ask the question. “What are your parents?” she asked.

            He didn’t say anything at first, like he was hesitating. Pondering what he should say next. “You could say they were warriors,” he answered.

            Past tense. Perhaps they died in battle, which wouldn’t be surprising. Given the violent lifestyle the Grounders lead, though something in the back of her head said that there was more to his answer to what he was letting on.

            That she had to unlock another level of trust from him to get that information. And for him to trust her, she would have to trust him in return.

           

* * *

 

            Due to the fact that his clan of origin didn’t know whether the Mountain has fallen or not, Lincoln felt rather conflicted about the Sky People’s Chancellor restricting him within the walls of Camp Jaha. That they would have it in for him for abandoning his post and that odds of the Commander putting a kill order on him were rather high.

            He didn’t question that possibility. After all, his fellow _Trikru_ often chose the route of violence when it came to conflict and people going AWOL rather than a reasonable alternative. He blamed it on two centuries of war with the Ice Nation for engraining violence in the heads of his peers.

            Though fighting against hardened warriors who threatened the lives and wellbeing of innocent people from his clan was completely different then launching an attack against a group of young adults who were foreign to the idea of war. Which made the latter wrong.

            He had felt somewhat out of place among his peers given his preference for pacifism, which was met with an occasional roll of the eyes from certain people, though as he currently sat with a group of _Skaikru_ – which included Octavia and Bellamy – he had felt more out of place. Two different backgrounds which obviously clashed with one another despite how well he knew them. Though it seemed that Octavia embraced the more violent aspect of his culture while ignoring the rest.

            Despite the violence within the culture of his clan, another important aspect of his clan was the fact that they were trained to be empathetic to their peers in moments of pain and suffering. That it was considered dishonorable to even sneer at it. He was surprised that even Indra even skipped over it, unless she thought that Octavia took that from him.

            “So, who was that girl I saw you with earlier today?” Octavia asked her brother.

            “Oh, that was Gina,” Bellamy answered. “A former classmate. Just small talk.”

            Octavia let out a snort. “Small talk?” she asked. “That’s how it always starts.”

            “Shut up, O,” Bellamy said, rolling his eyes. “There is nothing between us.”

            Lincoln couldn’t help but smile in amusement when hearing their banter. In his clan, if someone liked a girl, people wrapped flowers around a branch. To signify blooming feelings towards them. If it got any deeper than that, both parties would make matching pendants carved from a piece of bark.

Though Lincoln knew that Octavia was merely teasing her brother.

            “I could teach you how to tie flowers to a branch from a tree,” Lincoln offered, making it clear that he was merely joining in on teasing him. “That is part of my clan’s culture.”

            “Very funny, Lincoln,” said Bellamy, rolling his eyes. “Like that might happen.”


	5. Chapter Five

          Before daybreak, the two of them left the cellar. The captive had since roused, though Clarke wasn’t worried as he was bound and gagged; with Roan pulling on the rope restraining him. She herself made sure the rope was tightly held together to make sure he didn’t escape.

            No word was spoken between them, as maybe Roan didn’t want to tip off to the fugitive that she was only fluent in English. If there was something she was grateful for, it was that Roan didn’t throw her under the bus.

            This silence was a gift in some ways, as she could think without interruption. Though being reclusive was something she preferred, perhaps starting from scratch with another person was best. No preconceptions or knowledge about the other person. Just blank canvases that have yet to be sketched by the other person and the more they know the other person, and then the sketch would be detailed in turn.

            The sun had yet to reach the horizon when Roan stopped. He leaned towards her ear and whispered, “There is a trading post nearby. Do you want to come with me to Polis when I deliver him to the Delphi ambassador, or do you want to remain within this vicinity until I come back from Polis?”

            Interesting that he thought to ask, as having her tag along would be among the first things he would want. Perhaps it was a intuition he had. Whatever it was, Clarke would rather stay in an unexplored part of Woods Clan territory then step into Polis. Better to reduce the temptation of committing an assassination attempt on Lexa’s life.

            Clarke nodded. “I will stay here,” she answered.

            “Then keep that quiver strapped to you so I can spot you easy,” he answered. “Keep a sharp eye out for me as well.”

            Clarke nodded.

            She watched as he walked away, pulling the fugitive behind him. When he vanished out of sight, she looked around her surroundings, looking around for a berry bush. Considering that he would spot her by her quiver, he should be able to tell if she had performed a dye job.

            It wasn’t long before she thought she saw one. No, not just one, but multiple bushes with berries. She ran to it as if it was the only oasis of water in a desert. The blood pounded in her hands and ears as she took a handful, crushed the berries with her hands, and ran the berry juice though her hair. Using berries to color one’s hair was something that was practiced in the centuries before the bombs and she was sure the Grounders reverted back to that practice.

            Clarke snatched more berries, crushed them, and spread the remains through her hair. She repeated the process until she has emptied three bushes and her hands are sticky with berry juice. She cleaned her hands with the cold snow on the ground and moved forward.

            And passing by an unfrozen body of water, she could see that not a single strand of pale blonde hair was visible. If anybody were to see her, they wouldn’t place her as _Klark_ _kom Skaikru_ had pale blonde hair, not red hair.

            White smoke billowed from the trees and Clarke traced it to a small building situated in a small piece of clearing. Most likely that trading post that Roan was referring to.

            She witnessed how he traded animal skins for food and a sketchbook, and all she had on her that would be worth trading was her father’s watch and the clothes on her back. The former that she didn’t want to give up. So, she would have to hunt for some time. Enough time that she was still here when Roan returned to pick her up.

            Clarke removed the bow from the quiver and returned to the woods. Hoping that whatever catch she might find, would have her purchase satisfying goods in return. There had to be something.

            Otherwise, this disguise would fail miserably.

           

* * *

 

            “ _My scouts had reported seeing some members of the Sky People carrying what appeared like cloth wrapped bodies from the Mountain_ ,” Anya reported to Lexa as they sat at a table as Lexa ate her breakfast. “ _Around three hundred, which was said to be their population_.”

            Lexa moved her eggs around with a fork. Digesting Anya’s words, though her mind was still in a haze from last night’s nightmare, which had been the same: a mortally wounded Clarke admonishing her before morphing into Costia. The night before that, she dreamed that it was Clarke’s head sent to her bed instead of Costia’s.

            Trying to clear her mind, Lexa asked, “ _Did any of the scouts come near them to find out why?_ ”

            “ _They couldn’t per one of the agreements with the parasites_ ,” Anya answered, picking up a biscuit. “ _Tristan and I came to the conclusion that Clarke and her people took matters into their own hands after we left. That would be the only scenario_.”

            Relief filled every fiber of her body. Clarke was safe then. Though it wasn’t the victory that she had planned, with her and Clarke both walking away with their people, the Mountain did fall like she had hoped.

            “ _So, the Mountain’s shadow has left the woods_ ,” Lexa said.

            Anya nodded, though a grim expression settled on the older woman’s sharp features. “ _Trouble is, we are learning from watching their settlement that Clarke has disappeared after they returned and it won’t be long until Ice Nation hears about the Mountain’s fall_ ,” said Anya.

            It was like anxiety has swiftly replaced any relief she had for Clarke’s safety. Alone, Clarke will be a target. But she was strong, from what Lexa observed when she first met her. She could take care of herself.

            “ _What do you suggest I do?_ ” Lexa asked her anyway. For Anya’s wisdom was something she admired.

            “ _Take some credit for Mount Weather’s fall_ ,” Anya answered. “ _To maintain your power over the Coalition_. _Whatever Queen Nia concocts would be rendered useless as a result_.”

            Take some credit. It sounds easy. After all, Clarke wouldn’t have killed Mount Weather’s entire population if Lexa never accepted the deal from that parasite. Though, even if she did take some credit, Queen Nia might still find a way to undermine her. Probably cooking up her revenge for being forced to banish one of her children, which would be ironic as Lexa heard right after Prince Roan’s banishment that he and his mother were never close. Probably upset that she lost her one of her valuable power pieces.

            “ _No matter what I do, Nia would still find a way to undermine me_ ,” Lexa pointed out. “ _This achievement of taking down the Mountain was Clarke’s and hers alone. It will be in bad form to take that from her_.”

            “ _As noble as it is, people will see it as weakness_ ,” Anya said before snorting. “ _Not to mention Titus would have his reservations_.”

            “ _Any developments regarding Lincoln?_ ” Lexa asked, wishing for a change of subject. Last she heard, Lincoln disappeared from camp after he was restrained from helping the _Skaikru_. A warrior going AWOL was a great dishonor and that was punished by execution. Though something else could be done. “ _What do you suggest we do?_ ”

            “ _Scouts reported that he was within the walls of their settlement_ ,” answered Anya. “ _He hasn’t left, as he probably thinks that Tristan’s rangers would act on your orders to fulfill a kill order. Tristan thinks that execution isn’t the correct answer as does Indra. A sentiment I share with them as well. The appropriate thing would be to bereave him of his clan. He thought he was helping his friends, something we can’t execute him for.”_

            Lexa nodded, leaning back in her chair. That was appropriate. After all, it would be wrong to keep Lincoln confined within the _Skaikru_ settlement due to a kill order. Besides, Lexa had more to worry about anyway.

            Because the months ahead will be ugly.

 

* * *

 

            “ _I guess he didn’t come easily_ ,” said Ambassador _Reaghan kom Delfi_ noted once Roan presented her the fugitive.

            “ _Most don’t_ ,” said Roan. “ _In any case, at least your brother would get some justice_.”

            The ambassador nodded, a faint smile curling her lips. “ _The Delphi would like to thank you for your service_ ,” she said. She turned to the table next to her and picked up the wooden box that was lying there. Which probably contained the reward for catching the fugitive, which was said to be scavenged iron from their territory. “ _The bounty promised for apprehending him. hopefully it could buy you something you would need_.”

            “ _Thank you_ ,” he said, taking the box in his hands before exiting the Delphi Clan’s Embassy. The Delphi quarter of Polis had a handful of people outside but that should be expected for this time of morning as people usually convened at the town’s center.

            Though the temptation was great, Roan avoided from crossing into the Ice Nation quarter of the city. Step inside there are he would have his banishment extended to another ten years. Time grows fast when one ages, though he would give anything for the other half of the decade to come and pass swiftly.

            While at the center square, he would have to restock some of the food in his provisions bag for it was getting low. Clarke already had a water container of her own, so he wouldn’t have to worry about her getting one.

            Roan stopped at the supply vendor and slipped him one of the small trinkets from his newly acquired bounty to get a resupply of beef strips, dried fruit, and nuts.

            “ _You don’t say_ ,” said someone a few yards away.

            “ _It’s true_ ,” said another person in reply. “ _Our scouts witnessed Skaikru pulling their dead corpses from the Mountain. It was past the time the Mountain Men had someone pull the plug on them.”_

            He had no intention on listening in but he couldn’t help but turn for a second. If he was hearing this correctly, did the Mountain somehow meet its end?

            “ _In that case, you shouldn’t worry about the children being outside for a long period of time,_ ” said the same person. “ _No Mountain Men would mean no Reapers._ ”

            The vendor gave him his supplies and Roan doesn’t say anything as he puts the pouches and container in his bag. Leaving the vending stall as if he didn’t overhear what was said.

            The Mountain. Gone. If true, it had to be some ventilation mistake. No one could possibly take them down after _Trikru_ gave up after their failed four attempts to take on the Mountain. The parasites’ protective outer shell was bound to wear off sooner or later, as stone walls wouldn’t protect them from the toxic air that he and his brethren were immune to for long.

            Thing is, did Clarke know? That he will have to ask her sometime.

 

* * *

 

            The last time Clarke saw a two-headed deer was when they had just landed on the ground; just after she wondered why there were no animals. Now, one was propped up against the counter of the trading post, an arrow lodged in one of its eye. They always said to shoot the eye if you want good meat.

            “I must say, catches like this are a rare find for hunters,” remarked the post trader. “It’s not every day when one sees animals affected by the effects of _Praimfaya_.”

            Clarke nodded. She could say that she assumed that it was not common for animals to have mutations. However, saying such would indicate that she was not around here and the last thing that Clarke wanted to do was to stand out. “I saw one a little over a month ago with a couple of friends,” she answered. “It ran off after one of my friends stepped on a twig.”

            It wasn’t a lie but at least it removed the implication that she wasn’t someone that fell for the sky. It was rather merciful that this man began the conversation in English. That _Trikru_ speak English as well.

            “So, what could I do for you today?” was his question as the door opened. Clarke turned to see that it was a girl in her mid to late twenties. Her long, dark blonde hair kept neatly in its braids. Lugging behind what Clarke recognized as a wheelbarrow.

            Clarke turned back and answered, “Some clothes, and a water container.”

            She already had one which was in that spare bag that Roan gave her but there might misplace it.

            “Garments are over there and things of the like are over there,” he answered, pointing to his right. “The crate of water canteens is behind you.”

            Clarke nods as she turns to her left, her eyes finding three crates of garments. Not much but of course, one can’t be choosy while on the ground. Which is something that she learned firsthand.

            The man and the woman talk as she sifts through the meager supply of clothes. While their conversation wasn’t discernible due to her limited knowledge of the Grounders’ language. Though through words that she did know, it seemed like they were talking about Mount Weather.

            Clarke froze for a moment before pulling out a pair of black trousers. No, she shouldn’t make herself obvious. It might arouse suspicion if she appeared she was listening intently on a conversation regarding the Mountain.

            She knew it would take less than a week for the Woods Clan to find out about the Mountain’s fall, though it was bound to spread to the other clans. Not like wildfire but probably in a matter of a few weeks.

            After randomly pulling a few pieces of clothes, she headed to area across from the counter. Where she saw the girl unload a few items from the wheelbarrow and onto crates. Perhaps the daughter or other relative of the post trader.

            She turned towards Clarke and smiled before returning to her task. Not a hostile smile but one in greeting. Aside from the woman at the trading post/farm at the Blue Cliff, she had never really met Grounders that never had seen a day of combat in their lives.

            Perhaps, Clarke thought, they never met Grounder civilians because they were too focused on providing for their families, friends, and too focused on the tasks of day to day living to make themselves known to strangers. Of course, the warriors would be the loudest demographic.

            Combined with Roan’s words, now the divide between _Skaikru_ and Grounder was slim.

            She put her hand in her crate and pulled a water canteen out of random. Stuffing them in her nearly empty provisions bag save for the boots and the weathered jacket.

            “Found what you wanted?” her host asked her.

            “Yes,” Clarke answered as she approached the door. “Thank you.”

            Outside and once she was a great distance from the small building, she set down her bag and her two new finds before tearing off the hem of her overcoat. Using the fabric to tie the jacket to her bag.

            She tore away a new string to tie her boots to the overcoat. Clarke didn’t know how much time has passed since she hunted and dragged the deer to the trading post, but it could a while before Roan could come back from returning from Polis.

            To kill some time, she could try to hunt as they could have something to eat if they stop somewhere.

            She chuckled. Barely a week and she was making sure that they both were accounted for before performing such a task like hunting for wild game. If it was just her, there would be no need for such. Though nothing was wrong with feeding another mouth aside from her own.

            She had to stay within the vicinity, even if it gives limitations where she would hunt for wild game. Though two mutated rabbits wouldn’t be bad. The snow crunched under her feet as she stalks through the trees; carrying a bow and watching the direction of the sun.

            Clarke slowly analyzed her surroundings, trying to pay attention to any sights and sounds of any animals could happen to find their way towards her. With the snow, most of them have gone to hibernation.

            As two hours seemed to pass and with her certainty of finding any animals to shoot was dwindling, Clarke set aside her bow. Perhaps it was best that she go into that trading post and –

            “What’s with the red hair?” he called out.

            Clarke turned to see him approaching; a wooden box under his arm. Which may have contained the bounty that was offered.

            “This?” she asked, gesturing to her hair. For it might still have been tacky to the touch. Clarke shrugged. “Just wanted something different. Nothing more.”

            “Usually when people color their hair, that often means that they are running from something,” he answered as he stroked his beard. “That they don’t want to be found.”

            _Damn it_ , she thought. Clarke should have known that Roan would assume another reason for her dye-job. Given that he’s probably chased people who have changed the color of their hair to avoid capture.

            “Then again, if it’s what you like, suit yourself,” Roan continued. “Though I like your blonde hair better than the red.”

            Though Clarke couldn’t determine whether it was friendly small talk or if he was trying to flirt, she curled her lips into a small smile. For she knew smiles would be hard to come by.

 

* * *

 

            “Could you pass me the wrench?” Raven asked as she worked under one of the vehicles they found at the caverns of the Mountain.

            Wells didn’t hesitate as he took a wrench from the toolbox. Handing to her before turning back to one of the binders found in the Mountain.

            _May 12 th 2102: Security sees an individual on grounds above the compound. Seventeen people leave the Mountain and within five minutes, most of them have succumbed to radiation poisoning. Only two survive the effects._

            “Still reading what you found?” she asked.

            “Sure,” Wells answered as he read the log. “We basically annihilated them, so all I’m doing is basic research.”

            “To see why an entire civilization became a bunch of figurative vampires?” Raven asked as he heard her tighten a bolt.

            “That is an understatement,” he answered. “Not just that but whatever atrocities they might have committed during the past century and a half.”

            _June 12 th, 2102: President Edward Wallace invites a group of young adult outsiders into the compound. Therefore starting integration and expand the gene pool to create radiation immune offspring._

            There was no denying that Wells felt a shiver down his spine at that entry. He remembered how he and his peers were given new clothing, comfortable lodging, and were treated like they have been one of them. How even if it was too good to be true, how everything seemed better then up in the Ark. Only for the leaders to turn on them after a change in leadership. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that it started just how it ended. Only these young adults from the Woods Clan didn’t have the luck of one of their own becoming a ‘inside man’ to help them, like Bellamy did.

            “Anyways, it appeared they invited a group of _Trikru_ into their compound with the same original intentions President Dante Wallace had for us, until the first leader changed their mind,” Wells continued as he read, _July 2 nd: First round of DNA tests begin on guests_. “Definitely looks like they did when they found out they would only be useful as blood bags to treat radiation.”

            Raven rolls from under the vehicle. Her skin glistening with sweat. “How does that not surprise me,” she answered breathlessly as she stood up. “Wouldn’t put it past them to pull that the first time.” She took a deep breath. “Well, I’m going to grab something to eat before putting the finishing touch on that monstrosity.”

            “Finishing touch?” Wells asked as he closed the binder. Knowing Raven Reyes, it could be anything.

            “Well, someone needs to know who drives it,” Raven answered. “Otherwise it would be a mess when it would come to claiming it.”

            “Oh, putting a trademark on it,” he answered as he followed her. “Not bad.”

            Traveling through the corridors to get to the canteen, Wells hears Lincoln saying, “The ginger and water should help prevent whatever side effects that might come.”

            “Though that wouldn’t prevent him to get another bottle,” Bellamy said in reply.

            Ginger was one of the things that helped to avoid the symptoms of hangovers and judging by their tone of voice, he had a feeling who they were talking about.

            Raven seemed to get the gist of what they were talking about as well. For when they crossed paths with Bellamy, Lincoln, and Monty, she asked, “What’s wrong? Is Jasper alright?”

            “Abby found that a bottle of moonshine was missing from a cabinet of remedies,” Monty answered. “Ten minutes ago, Harper found him with the bottle almost empty.”

            Almost empty bottle of moonshine. Jasper would be lucky if his liver wasn’t damaged after that strong alcohol.

            “He almost drank the entire bottle?” Wells asked.

            “How did he get to it?” Raven asked in bewilderment.

            “That’s the question we are asking, though I’m sure the Chancellor will lock up her supplies,” Bellamy answered.

            Without Clarke to challenge her mother (not that he seen it, but he heard that she did quite a bit), it wouldn’t be surprising for Jasper to find more self-destructive ways of dealing what has happened. Though it was no guarantee that it would prevent him from committing anymore acts of self-harm.

 

* * *

 

            The sun had just reached the horizon when they decided to camp out in the same cave like last time. They caught a deer, whose remains were roasting over a fire. As he was tending their recent kill, he looked at Clarke every few minutes; who was tightening the string of her bow.

            Clarke wasn’t hard to notice, even with the hair color change. Anyone who never saw her before wouldn’t think she really had a head of blonde hair. Though if he wondered if that was her intention. Disguise herself so people could say, “Nope, I haven’t seen the girl you are looking for.”

            It could be his years of searching for fugitives and picking up cues when they tried to change their appearance to avoid capture (though slight facial marring and dye jobs never deceived him in the slightest), it was too convenient for her to change the color of her hair with berries after distancing herself from the rest of the Sky People. That maybe she was trying to put distance between her and her people and didn’t want to be found.

            Which begged the question: Why? Was she banished like he was? Was she on the run after committing some sort of crime? Or was she running because she committed something horrible and ran off to avoid the shame that might come?

            “The venison smells good,” Clarke stated as she set aside the bow.

            “Hungry?” he asked as she inched closer to the fire.

            She nodded. “Dried beef and dried fruit don’t do much to satisfy the stomach,” she answered. “I shot a deer but that was to trade for clothes and a water container. I was hunting for something until you showed up. With winter, ones choices are limited.”

            Down here perhaps but up in the northern part of Ice Nation bears, moose, foxes, and deer were not hard to come by. He had a bear skin rug from a bear he hunted for sport; that was probably still lying on his floor of his chambers back in _Azgeda_. Bear meat was a luxury that most people didn’t have access to.

            He didn’t have to worry going without. As for Clarke, as she fell from the sky –

            “How does one live in space for two hundred years and not go extinct?” he asked. “There are bound to be a limitation of resources.”

            Clarke paused for a moment before answering, “As I told you before, we rationed things out. Food, hygienic necessities, luxury items. For water, well, after one urinates, the urine goes through a filtration system. It might seem gross that we drank recycled urine, but we had to survive. We were the last of the human race, or so we thought.”

            The idea of drinking urine let alone drink purified urine, was enough to curdle one’s stomach. There would be predictably be no natural water supply in space but it didn’t mean Roan wasn’t disgusted by the idea of drinking recycled urine.

            “There was a limited amount of oxygen that our leadership took drastic measures to keep the life support system going,” she continued. Clarke inhaled; held her breath as if debating whether to continue before exhaling. “Two people could only have one child. After the first birth, people would get contraceptive implants. For every crime, no matter how minor or severe, they would float them into space. With those under eighteen, they would put them in lock up before going for a review. Some as minor as just existing to just knowing information that they wanted to share. My father…” Clarke gasped, her blue eyes glassy. Grasping the watch that was around her wrist. “No, I shouldn’t have gone this far. I never intended to…I…”

            It wasn’t long before she buried her face into her knees. Her shoulders shaking hard with sobs. Though he’s done it before, it’s been five years since he would comfort his younger sister. Though he could still hold functional conversations, he’s distanced himself from the rest of the population save for limited contact with other people that comforting someone and making someone feel better was something that would become difficult.

            It wouldn’t hurt to try at least. He scoots towards her and places his hands on her shoulders. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked her, as softly as he could manage. “It could wait. You don’t have to give me the gory details.”

            Clarke sniffed and wiped the tears from her face, which were flushing red. “Last year, my father found a problem with the life support system,” she gasped. “Catastrophic it was, something that couldn’t be fixed. The council, including my mom, didn’t want him to speak out. They were afraid that it would cause a panic.”

            It wasn’t difficult to tell where this story was going, though he allowed her to continue. “He was going to tell everyone, and my mother…my mother went to the Chancellor, who was also his friend and the father of my only best friend, thinking that he would talk him out of it, but…” she shook her head. “The guard came, arresting him and me for treason. The reason being I knew. I watched as my best friend’s father pushed the button to the airlock and…”

            She shuddered, as if whatever image she was seeing was replaying though her head before sobbing harder. “This wristwatch is all I have of him,” she sobbed. “I couldn’t…I didn’t want to trade it in for anything.”

            She leaned towards him and he rubbed her back. Her father was executed simply for telling people that their home’s life support system was failing and they arrested her simply for knowing the information. How Roan saw it, the smartest thing would have been to give them a toned down version first before telling them the truth, as they will figure out anyway when symptoms of oxygen deprivation would kick in. Arresting Clarke for simply knowing was plain idiocy.

            If he had any comforting words, they exited out of his brain just as they entered. Yet he didn’t want to seem like he didn’t care. He too remembered the pain when he lost his father.

            “It was probably right before or after you were born,” he started. “I was ten when my father passed. He didn’t die on the battlefield but wounded to the point where it was obvious he wouldn’t make it.”

            It wasn’t a lie, though he left out the part where his father, King of _Azgeda_ at the time, was leading a battalion against _Trikru_ warriors. Like all kings have done in the past. Clarke was under the assumption that both of his parents were warriors. Technically they were, as monarchs down his bloodline were trained in combat.

            Clarke wiped her eyes and rasped, “What happened to him?”

            “ _Trikru_ archer shot him in the stomach,” he answered, feeling his own tears come. He turned his head away to brush them away before continuing. “He knew he was done for and even though healers tried to find ways to save him, there was no way the damage could be reversed.”

            The image of his father, lying down on a table with the arrow protruding through his armor, once again flashed through his memory bank. How Roan’s ten year old self tearfully begged for his father to not leave him, despite being told that his father wouldn’t last.

            “He told me to look after my siblings,” he rasped. “That they would have to depend on me. And after that, the healer removed the arrow from his abdomen.”

            Oh, if emotions had a switch, he could turn them off. He had perfectly managed to contain his emotions, as it was “unprincely” to be ruled by them. But this particular memory never ceased to activate the waterworks when addressed. His father was the only parent who bothered to treat him like an actual offspring then a power piece. He would tell him and his siblings folklore that originated within _Azgeda_ ’s mountains, taught him and his sister to hunt for sport.

            “Where was your mother?” Clarke asked. “Surely she wouldn’t have left that burden onto you.”

            His mother. He should have known that she would bring that up. His mother was good as dead and even if the Commander killed her right then instead of going through with the ceasefire, he wouldn’t have cared. It would feel like shackles would be broken from his wrists.

            “She died before he did,” he answered, not sparing the details. He dried his eyes. There was no lie that Clarke would be suspicious at his lack of emotion before he would tell her his full identity, yet that was for later.

            The first thing they shared was that they were far from their homes. The second thing they now shared was their deceased fathers. Roan wondered how many more things they have in common.


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canonically, we know what Clarke does if she wants to escape her grief. If 3x01 and 4x06 are of any indication.

_Snip. Snip_.

            Hair falls around him as he, well, they would have said he was overdue for his annual hair trim. Though Jasper could hardly call it a trim. That wasn’t accurate. It was going to be more than a trim.

            Jasper adjusted the volume on Maya’s iPod. Which was the only thing that was left of her. Miller thought to give it to him after their first trip to the Mountain. They claimed that they were going to the Mountain in need of supplies.

            Jasper scoffed. Grave robbing was more of an accurate term, how he saw it. Just senselessly taking items belonging to the deceased for their own use. No matter how hard they would try to justify it as ‘necessary for their survival’ what they were doing was still grave robbing.

            Yes, there were people that needed to be killed (like Cage, who he would have killed if Clarke hadn’t killed everyone under the excuse that they “had no choice”) but they didn’t need to kill Maya, who helped them. They didn’t need to kill other people who helped them. They didn’t need to kill innocent people and children who had nothing to do with what was happening.

            When he was finished, Jasper set the scissors down and cleaned up the clumps of hair from the floor. Afterwards, he rubbed his hands through his hair. Not as thick and long as before but it still wasn’t satisfying.

            If only there was something that would help shave his head, though he doubted it.

            Oh, how he could use another bottle of moonshine. He would have drank the whole bottle if Monty hadn’t walked in and saw him on the verge of passing out. He wished that Monty would stop acting like he cared after killing Maya and an entire civilization when the only people that needed to die were Cage and a few of his syncopates.

            He knew people would continue to monitor him and give him his meals but he wished that they would let him drink into oblivion. That way he wouldn’t have to think about the horrors he witnessed.

            Never before had he wished that he would exit this life in some shape or form. Then all his pain would come to an end.

 

* * *

 

            Clarke had seen the pictures of pioneer women doing laundry with old scrubbing boards as she read one of her textbooks from Earth History. There was even a lesson on laundry techniques in Earth History. Yet, she felt like she was lost when she saw the scrubbing board and metal tub of water. Garments swimming around in the soapy water. Like some information had leaked from her brain.

            “Don’t tell me they didn’t teach you how to wash your clothes up there,” Roan said once he had showed her the process to wash clothes.

            “Well, they did,” she divulged, taking the shirt from his hand. “That piece of information must have leaked from my brain.”

            Scrub. Rinse. Scrub. Rinse. Clarke continued the process that Roan showed her.

            “I guess there is something that you haven’t memorized, Snowflake,” he premised after a long pause.

            Clarke shrugged. Her ability to absorb things like a sponge was what annoyed the rest of her peers (with the outstanding exception of Wells) back at the Dropship Camp in the first week on the ground. “What else do you know, Princess?” or “Isn’t there something that you haven’t memorized, Clarke?” With Bellamy and Murphy being the worst offenders. If they saw how she was at a loss when it came to laundry, then they –

            Wait.

            “What did you call me?” Clarke demanded. Turning towards Roan, who was smiling in amusement.

            “Snowflake,” he answered. “It’s fitting since you fell from the sky.”

            Fell from the sky, like snow does. Well, okay. Not quite as bad as Clarke thought but that didn’t mean all her irritation was subsided. She had half the mind to flick water at his face but judging by his current demeanor, he might turn it into a water fight. Therefore causing her to search for berry bushes around the cabin to repair the damage that was done on her dye job.

            So she continued to scrub. Scrubbing the clothes against the metal rollers harder to display her irritation. Though she had seen that Roan had started scrubbing clothes after a minute of her silence.

            Snowflake. Snow does fall from the sky, which was the truth. As time progressed in the days before the Nuclear Apocalypse, it became a term to describe someone who couldn’t handle the harshness of reality. To be fair, she was glad that the basis was the natural occurrence of snowfall.

            Even though “Princess” evolved from an insult to an endearing term, “Snowflake” sounded somewhat better.

            After the clothes had been washed and rung out, the two of them attached them to the clothesline that was erected in the room. Creating a makeshift curtain between the living and kitchen area.

            They were going to hang their laundry inside anyway, with winter coming.

            To wait for the clothes to dry, they both sat at the kitchen to prepare lunch. Not to Clarke’s surprise, Roan decided to teach her more Trigedasleng. Clarke had nothing against that, as she wanted to blend in.

            About thirty minutes later, as they were peeling vegetables, Roan made the comment, “The Woods Clan wouldn’t have to worry about the Reapers trying to gather them anymore.”

            Clarke barely missed her finger with the blade.

 _He knows_ , she thought, the blood pounding in her ears. She must act unassuming. As if she didn’t know about the Mountain being wiped out.

“What happened?” she asked, trying to act casual.

“According to a couple two people I overheard at the Polis market, _Trikru_ scouts had seen _Skaikru_ remove corpses from the Mount Weather complex,” Roan answered, as he brushed the carrot shavings into a bag. “That the entire population was wiped out. Guesses as to what happened?”

“Nothing that I know of,” she lied, as she remembered Bellamy’s hand over hers as they pushed the lever once Monty reversed the scrubbers. Watching as the horrifying outcome took place before their eyes as they stood in the control room. “I haven’t been with my people for a few days.”

“Reckon everything they used to keep the air out finally malfunctioned?” he asked. “Because it would explain why they would go extinct. It would be too difficult to even take them out with all the barriers they are said to have.”

Either the Blue Cliff Clan was slow on the uptake given their distance or if Roan had very limited human contact, or a combination of both, there were plenty of things he didn’t know. Though he might find out anyway and it’s not going to be long that he might find out who she really is.

The Grounders saw her as the sole leader of her people and it wouldn’t be surprising if they connected her to the genocide at Mount Weather. Not to mention they would find out some way that she left her people. She wouldn’t put it past the leader of every clan to put a bounty on her head, with a desirable reward that bounty hunters won’t pass up.

Bounty hunters like the one across from her.

“Well, that’s possible,” she said. She didn’t know how long she could keep this up of pretending not to know. Especially when she was under the roof with a bounty hunter.

If she tried to leave, he would track her. Either way, she was trapped.

Clarke was relieved when they resumed the Trigedasleng lesson as they finished preparing for lunch. As she didn’t want the temptation to reveal her atrocities at the Mountain.

Though from the sound of it, it wouldn’t be considered such among the Grounders. They never saw the Mountain Men as human. Then again, it would be easy to dehumanize your enemies when they had people harvested for their blood and had them hung upside down like they were nothing but animals.

Lunch came faster than it seemed and ten minutes of silence passed as they ate. Clarke pondered what to say. They have only known each other for like a week. Well, it was too soon to discuss anymore after two days ago when she broke down about her –

“If they could allow one child, what did they do if a mother gave birth to multiples?” Roan asked, pushing her from her thoughts.

Clarke ceased cutting up her chicken, caught off-guard by his question. It was interesting that a Grounder was curious about life up in the Ark, though at least it meant that she wouldn’t give any more information. “They would give the siblings to couples that were unable to have a child,” she answered. “They would make sure that they wouldn’t know that they were related.”

There was a pause as if she continued to cut up her chicken. “That is idiotic,” Roan answered. “The kids are going to speculate why someone resembles them in some way.”

Clarke wished that Roan wasn’t this perceptive, as she had seen her peers debating whether another is a sibling just by their shared physical traits or certain mannerisms. “That has happened sometimes,” she answered. “I didn’t have another sibling.”

“It must have been lonely to be the only child,” Roan speculated before putting a piece of chicken in his mouth. He swallowed. “Siblings can be pain, but you can’t live without them.”

She saw how Bellamy and Octavia got on the other’s nerves, though they both looked out after the other. So, Clarke somewhat understood what he was talking about. “Did any of your siblings make you feel that way?” she asked him.

“Two out of three,” he answered. “My sister, Lagertha, didn’t appreciate me looking out after her.” Roan rolled his eyes at a certain memory. “Said that she could take care of herself without me in the background.”

Clarke couldn’t help but smile, as it reminded her of a certain pair of siblings. “Was she the tough warrior type?” she asked.

“That would be an understatement,” he answered. “She thought relationships outside of family were a waste of time. I wouldn’t be surprised if she doesn’t still have a significant other. She doesn’t see the point of sex when one can practice combat and fight.”

So, not like Octavia, then. Seems like she was the warrior woman who didn’t think that she needed a man.

“Then again, she wasn’t a hard person for me to talk to,” he continued. “Though other people piss their pants when around her.”

Intimidating? Clarke wouldn’t be surprised. These were Grounders after all.

“My brother, Aspen, is another chore,” Roan continued. “When he wasn’t partaking in raids mandated by the Queen, half of the time, he would sleep around.”

“The womanizer type?” Clarke asked. At least with Roan talking, she didn’t have to divulge another part of her painful past.

“Sometimes with two girls at a time,” Roan answered, like the idea still perplexed and disgusted him at once. “Sometimes with three.” He grimaced. “He wouldn’t blink a eye if it ended with the girls killing each other over a jealous rage.”

Clarke flinched, remembering that even when Raven came down in her pod, Finn still wanted to pursue a relationship with her. “It’s true that I care about Raven, but you and I, I felt we started something,” were his words before joining the group led by Bellamy to search for Octavia. Only Clarke had the luck of befriending Raven then it coming down to how Roan has described.

“Not all the time, though,” Roan added, as if he saw her reaction. “Now, with my youngest sibling, Nymeria, you wouldn’t think she came from a family of warriors if you met her. Timid. Doesn’t have interest in picking up a sword or anything of the like. Would rather paint in her spare time.”

Timid, yet related to warriors. Clarke assumed that she could be one of those that are rendered quiet and reserved from the violence they witness.

“I am thankful that it was me instead of her,” he continued. “For she would not have survived isolation.”

Again, she had the intuition that it was related to whatever he was concealing from her. She could prod him. Demand what it was that he is not telling her, but that would remove whatever progress they might be making. Therefore resulting him in rising up whatever walls he had.

And she didn’t tell him her ultimate secret, as well.

“Well, while I didn’t have a sibling, there was this boy who is my best friend,” she said. “The only best friend I have.”

“The child of the man that executed your father?” he asked. Of course he would come to that conclusion. She did tell him that she had only one best friend.

Clarke nodded. “We would play chess, recite parts of literature,” she continued. “He would trade his rations to get me some sketching materials.” She inhaled before exhaling slowly “He was too good for me.”

“By too good, what do you mean?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I told him what my father knew. About the Ark’s life support system failure,” she said. “He kept it quiet, like he promised. After my father was executed, he lied to me and said that he told his father, because he didn’t want me to hate my mother.” A tear streamed down her cheeks. “I was so cruel to him. Said the worst things anyone could imagine. It didn’t occur to me that it was my mother before I thought about it.” Clarke shook her head. “I apologized and everything is good, but I can’t take everything back.”

Roan scratches the stubble under his chin before saying, “To be suffering your wrath for something he didn’t do so you wouldn’t hate your mother, well…let’s just I don’t want to say anything to make it worse than it is for you.”

“You never had a friend that did that?” she asked.

“Probably because they would be afraid what the consequences would be if they took the fall for something they didn’t do something honorable,” he postulated.

* * *

 

            “They are allowing him in the Guard?” Bellamy demanded, not concealing the outrage that he was feeling. What was Chancellor Griffin thinking? After what she herself witnessed, he would have assumed that she would have more –

            “They don’t want him to vegetate,” said Miller. “Part of the Exodus Charter that they kept.”

            How he should have known. Should have known that they would have enacted that part of the Exodus Charter that if one is able, they have to work. The other parts were suspended as they realized they weren’t compatible with living on this planet.

            “Well, screw the Exodus Charter,” Bellamy spat. “I had faith in the Chancellor and the Vice Chancellor to keep Jasper from situations where he would harm himself.”

            “After the incident with the moonshine, Mrs. Griffin thinks that this would keep him from drinking to the point of alcohol poisoning,” Monty said. “Besides, it’s not even heavy guard work. Just some of the simple stuff.”

            Bellamy shook his head. “He’s still going to find ways to harm himself no matter how simple Chancellor Griffin thinks it is,” he pointed out. He started towards the door. “I’m going to talk with her.”

            “It might have to wait because dad said that she and Kane are meeting with three Grounder big-shots at this moment,” answered Miller. “Something about hunting regulations and such.”

            Probably Tristan, Anya, and Indra. Kane was talking about that meeting a day before, and he didn’t seem to worry about the outcome. Since Bellamy spent a good duration of the conflict at Mount Weather, Bellamy didn’t know whether relations improved or had gotten worse. Anya seemed to be willing to work with his people last time he knew, though he wasn’t sure about Tristan and Indra. Both were volatile.

            “I’m going to get some air,” Bellamy said before walking out of the room. Not caring if he messed up his knuckles when he slammed them against the wall when he went outside.

            He needed to vent. Express his frustrations. Octavia wasn’t one to, as she wasn’t the type to listen to hear one’s frustration. His choices were Raven and Wells. Though it didn’t feel right to burden them with his frustrations when they themselves are picking up after the Mount Weather genocide. He’ll go to them when he’ll calm down.

            He goes into the eating canteen, which was predictably barren with only a few people getting drinks at the bar which Gina was tending. Gina. She seemed like the person who would listen to his frustrations.

            He could use a drink anyway. It’s been a while since he had one.

            Bellamy approached the counter and when he sat on one of the stools, all Gina needed to do was glance at the expression on his face. For she asked, “Is there something wrong?”

            “Care if I share my frustrations?” he asked.

            She shook her head. “I will listen,” she answered. “Want something to drink as well?”

            “Something not too strong please,” he answered.

 

* * *

 

            “Have you used a sword before?” Roan asked her as they both took apart a deer they caught from a hunting trip mere hours ago.

            “No,” Clarke answered, brushing the berry-dyed strands from her hair. She should never have dyed it. Her blonde hair suited her best but if she didn’t want to be found, Roan knew he couldn’t force her to wash it off.

            “One of these days, I’m going to teach you,” he answered, as he threw some of the deer’s insides into a bag. “That way you wouldn’t rely on those weapons that _Skaikru_ use.”

            She slightly narrowed her ice blue eyes. “You don’t like guns then, either,” she deduced.

            “Who wouldn’t when they give someone ultimate power over life and death?” he asked.

            “Don’t swords and arrows do?” she asked.

            “Only they don’t cause collateral damage like bullets,” he answered. “They are just a gateway to make killing people by the masses with ease.”

            Clarke bit her lip, as she was thinking over his reply. “Just don’t try to kill me, then,” she said.

            “You would only need to worry if it was actual _solo gonplei_ ,” he assured. “I don’t have reason to kill you anyway.”

            He thought for a moment, that those lips of hers curved into a smile.

            Having taking care of the deer’s insides and hide, they both applied sea salt before wrapping the contents in brown paper. A menial task, as Roan saw it, but necessary as one has to survive winter without the meat rotting.

            In the northern part of _Azgeda_ , there was no fear of meat spoiling. For the cold was enough to preserve it. Though in the southern end, people would have to.

            After they have cleaned up the mess, he watched as Clarke reached for her sketchbook and charcoal. Sitting down on one of the chairs as she flipped it open. Yet, though he picked up his own book to read, he couldn’t help but help notice her furrowed brows of concentration as she pressed the charcoal against the paper.

            The look of an artist doing their work, as how Roan pegged it after watching his sister sketch out pictures before painting.

            “Drawing anything in particular?” he asked as he opened his copy of _1984_.

            Clarke shrugged. “Just the trees, the stars, and you know…” she trailed off before continuing, “…one of the things I drew in my cell while in the SkyBox.”

            Roan wasn’t surprised. If one is incarcerated for an entire year, they are bound trying to find something to do to find some sanity. That is, if given the tools to do it. Imprisonment was an empty resistance from what he heard.

            “Was that you trying to keep yourself sane?” he asked.

            Clarke paused. Steepling her fingers, drawing back a breath before exhaling. “That and it was an escape for me,” she sighed. “A mental escape from my literal prison.”

            It wasn’t like he was surprised. Roan half expected it for it to be one of her answers. Craving having a paper and a piece of drawing charcoal was indicative enough that she preferred to mentally drift from reality. To lose herself in an escape.

            “I sketched out images on my prison walls and floor,” she continued. “A group of trees, buildings from pictures I saw…anything that came to mind. The day I came down to the ground, I was drawing a scene of the ground. How I imagined it.”

            “You draw a picture of it right before you come down,” Roan surmised, as he couldn’t help but end it with a snort. “Coincidental or was your subconscious sending you a message? Because sometimes it does that.”

            “Maybe,” she mused. “I don’t know. The only thing I was thinking, well, I was imagining what it would have felt like to feel the sun on my face, trees all around me, scent of wildflowers on a breeze…how beautiful I imagined it.”

            “Was it how you imagined or did it come close?” he couldn’t help but ask.

            “It came close,” she answered before chuckling. “The only thing I didn’t expect was how the radiation would affect some of the living organisms. I saw a two headed deer the day I landed. My very first night, I saw a patch of glowing flowers.”

            Glowing flowers. While it is true that the Woods Clan and some other clans had their little share of glowing insects and plants, most of the glowing fauna could be found in the territory belonging to the Glowing Forest Clan, which was how it got its name. Last time Roan remembered, the Glowing Forest were among the clans that had some beef with Ice Nation.

            (Not that it would surprise him as the first leader of Ice Nation, King William – or Bill Cadogan as he was called in the life before _Praimfaya_ – who specifically was his fifth great-grandfather, tried taking over a part of it in the beginning. Back before Ice Nation got its name and back when they were taking over survival settlements that were independent from the Coalition that the first Commander, the ex-friend of his fifth great-grandfather, founded.).

            If Roan had any indication, Clarke describing the moment she landed was like the story of a bird breaking loose from its cage. Living up above the Earth, with the population kept in metal structures and with limited resources, had to be a stale existence.

            Roan didn’t want to imagine living contained in some metal structure. It would affect his sanity for all he would know. It sounded worse than his current banishment.

            “I would have gone insane if that was my life,” he answered, as he set aside his book. “Living in a metal contraption with limited mobility. Well, I’m not allowed to go back into Ice Nation, but you get what I mean.”

            “I thought the ground would be better,” Clarke surmised, her eyes having that far away glance. “That it wouldn’t be brutal like the Ark, but…I was wrong. It’s harsh.”

            Life wasn’t going to be some carefree child’s play, based on what Roan encountered and has been enduring. It was going to be a wild ride starting at birth. Regarding his reality.

            “What was your escape, exactly?” she asked him. “Did you ever try escaping the reality of your banishment?”

            If Roan was ever going to be honest, it was that going to be that he had limited human contact and reading when he wasn’t hunting food or bringing fugitives to get some bounty.

            Though he planned on being honest.

            “When I am not hunting to survive or get a bounty after handing over fugitives, I would lose myself in a good book,” he answered. Though the limited contact thing she would figure out on for her own, for she was escaping whatever demons were plaguing her mind.

 

* * *

 

            Hours later, Clarke shivered as she placed her sketchbook on the crate next to the bed before crawling under the blankets of the bed. Talking about using drawing as means of escape was peeling another layer of herself.

            She had talked about her father, Wells, and now what she uses to escape from whatever demons and grief might be plaguing her. What was going to be next? Finn? The Mountain? The latter was going to going to come sooner if she and Roan continued sharing information regarding their lives.

            Clarke rested her head on the pillow and closed her eyes. Knowing that it was mistake on her part. She could get up and wander outside but with Roan sleeping in the living area and with the door creaking as it would open, it would be a stupid idea.

            As hours passed and she was dragged further into sleep, thinking about leaving the bed was nonexistent. Instead, Clarke found herself outside the door of the Mountain. Standing before her was Lexa. Her face splattered with the blood of the snipers like the last time she saw her.

            The blood boiled in Clarke’s veins and she tried lunging at the Commander. Hoping to scratch her face until it bled. Though she found herself unable to.

            Like she was rooted in place.

            “I’m sorry, Clarke,” Lexa said like she did a week ago. “May We Meet Again.”

            Bile rose in her throat. “Don’t you think about leaving, you bitch,” she demanded. “You stay like you promised. You promised that the both of us would free our people. Take a step away and I swear that I’ll end you.”

            Lexa, apparently unfazed by Clarke’s words, repeated, “I’m sorry,” before turning her heel and walking away.

            The stench of burning flesh burned Clarke’s nostrils. Causing her to turn and witness that same gruesome sight at the Mount Weather Mess Hall. Sniffling is heard and she turned her gaze to Jasper, who was cradling Maya’s lifeless body. She braced herself as he turned his tearful gaze to her and demanded, “ _What did you do?_ ”

            Clarke felt a bloodcurdling scream tear from her lungs as she bolted up in bed. Tears accompanying her screams only moments later. Through her terrified haze, she was vaguely aware of someone grabbing her shoulders. She pushed the person with her hands before folding her knees to her chin. Rocking back and forth.

            That person walked away and she felt some relief. She didn’t want anyone to touch her. Not now. Not with the images from Mount Weather resurfacing in her mind.

            That person returned and Clarke felt the bed dip before smelling what could only be milk.

            “Here,” came Roan’s husky voice. “I hope this helps.”

            Clarke had half the mind to knock the glass out of his hands, that she didn’t need his pity. But the other half of her mind craved something. Anything to relieve her distress even if temporary. With shaking hands, she took the glass and tipped it to her mouth. Nice and warm, though not sour to the taste.

            “Is there something that you need to talk about?” he asked as she drank.

            She shook her head. “If I did, you wouldn’t understand,” she choked, tears streaming down her cheeks. “It’s nothing you need to know now.”

            There was nothing but silence from him. As if he was contemplating what to say. Hopefully, he’ll make the smart decision to not say anything.

            “I’ll give you your privacy,” he said, before she could hear his footsteps heading towards the doorway. “That might be best.”

            Though minutes ago, she didn’t want him around, it was like she didn’t want him to leave. For whatever reason, she needed his company. “No, don’t go,” she begged. “Please.”

            Clarke looked at him and watched as he stood by the doorway of the room; staring at her with curiosity. Probably wondering why she now wanted his company after physically pushing him away. Regardless, he walked over and stood at the foot of the bed; his fingers gracing the footboard.

            “Is there anything else you want me to?” he asked.

            Her mind running a million miles an hour, Clarke weighed her options. She craved an escape. Continuing a sketch or reading couldn’t suffice. There was only one option and that was –

            _No_ , she thought. _That’s a stupid idea_.

            When she had a sexual encounter with Finn ten days after landing on the ground, Raven descended down to the Earth in her pod. Resulting in Finn pursuing them both. Though Raven and Finn were separated for only ten days, Roan was banished from Ice Nation for _five years_. If there was someone special that Roan had back in Ice Nation, that person was bound to have moved on by now.

            It wasn’t going to mean anything. Everything will be same for them like the previous day when they were not in the bedroom. Besides, she could use someone to be in bed with to avoid waking up alone after a nightmare.

            She struggled to keep her breathing even as she rose from the bed and approached him. Before she could talk herself completely out of this, before any doubts crossed her mind, she reached up; tangling her fingers into his long brown tresses before placing her lips to his.

            Half of her expected him to push her away. Denounce her as crazy for these advances when they only knew each other for like a week. It would only be natural for him to react that way. It only took him a few seconds to prove her wrong, when he pushed his lips onto hers. Only adding a flame to the kiss that she found herself craving.

            Roan’s fingers reached the bottom of her camisole. Not missing a beat pulling it off from her body before tearing the bra from her breasts. Hands shaking, she tore the shirt off his torso. Heart pounding, she ran her hands down his torso; his muscles firm under her palms.

            He grabbed her face to kiss her again. This time gracing his teeth to her bottom lip. Whatever sound came out of her was slightly inhuman, as she basked in this fire that was starting to consume them.

            Clarke raised herself to her toes; jumping up to wrap her legs around the rut of his hips. Closing her eyes as he left her lips to place wet and bruising kisses from her jaw to the side of her neck, as he supported her with his hands; the calluses scrapping down her bare back. Not that Clarke cared, for it only incited her pleasure. As intoxicating as it was, Clarke craved more; itching to tear the pants from his legs.

            As if he had a similar desire, Roan placed her on the bed. Not leaving her lips as he hovered above her. His fingers reach her boxer shorts and Clarke raised her hips to let him pull them down.

            Her heart pounded in anticipation and excitement when she heard them fall on the floor. Clarke licked her lips as she unfastened his pants. Pulling them down and discarding them to the floor. She eyed his bare crotch, cupping his balls and slightly adding pressure with her palm.

            His moan borders close to a growl in response. Opening her lips with his fingers before kissing her. His stubble grazing her face as he lowers himself to her. His leg hair scratching her shaved legs. The fire intensifying as they lay there skin to skin. Though considering the things they were sharing, they might have been virtually undressing themselves anyway.

            Though Clarke wasn’t going to be satisfied until he was inside her.

            Clarke gasped for breath, her mind still buzzed from the high of their foreplay, when his lips left hers. His long hair hanging like a curtain around her face. His blue eyes staring down at her own.

            “Do you want to do this?” he asked as his callused thumb brushed her nipple. Sending waves of pleasure down her spine. His tone indicating that he knew what her intentions were. That there were no strings attached. That they were going to keep this in here and nowhere else. And that relieved her.

            “Yes,” she rasped before reaching up to kiss him. The blood pounding in her ears as he lifted her hips. His fingers digging into her flesh. Clarke bit her lip. From her first time with Finn, she knew what was going to come next but that was only her first time and sex with Roan wasn’t going to be the same like it was with Finn.

            He stopped for a moment; lubricating himself with his saliva and she closed her eyes as he pushed himself into her. Inciting a gasp from her as she arched. Tilting her head back in pleasure as she clasped her hands on his back. Her fingertips feeling raised scars down his back.

            The time that passed didn’t matter, for Clarke gleefully wrapped herself in a blanket of lust and pleasure as the blood pounded her ears. She grinded her hips against him, keeping up with his thrusts. Fire, ash and heat remaining as their skin melded together.

            At this moment, there were no horrifying images of the Mount Weather Mess Hall infecting her mind. No thinking about how Lexa left her and her people to their own devices. All there were was her and Roan’s heartbeats radiating against each other and the bed shaking underneath them from their movements. Clarke found herself hoping that the bed wouldn’t break underneath them from the passion.

            Her lower region warms and she feels a strangled cry crawl up her throat as she clenched around him. Her toes curling as the euphoria set in and if she were able to, she could spontaneously combust right here.

            It’s not long before he pulled out of her and she hears him working over himself until he releases himself with a gasp. Roan cleaned up his seed from the bed before lying next to her. Breathing deeply as she was.

            Clarke adjusted herself and lay her head on his chest. That way his heartbeat radiated against her ear. Tracing her fingers over the lines of his abs before dozing off. Whereas the high wore down after having sex with Finn, the high she was currently feeling still lingered. Accompanying the glow of sex, one thing she could count upon is that she wouldn’t be alone in bed next time.

           

* * *

 

Raven didn’t have time for reading. Her hands were always preoccupied with her tools when she was fixing something or working on something to explode. On the rare occasions that she did read, it was often because of something like a nightmare that forced her awake. And it was one of those moments.

            Desperately trying to cleanse the memory of the drill imbedding itself in her leg along with the screams that accompanied with it, she found herself turning the pages of one of the books that were taken from the Mountain. Or specifically _The Handmaid’s Tale_ by Margaret Atwood.

            While not too familiar with the book, she was all too familiar of the series that was stored in the media archives stored in the Ark’s database. The cattle prod wielding Aunts, the red dresses and wings, and the idea of losing one’s sexual agency and being reduced to a walking womb was enough to give her nightmares.

            She was at the moment where Offred (or was it actually June?) was summoned to her bastard of a Commander’s office when someone knocked on her metal door. Who could it be at this time of night?

            “Who is it?” she exclaimed.

            “Mind if I can come in?” asked Wells from outside her compartment.

            “Sure,” she answered as she marked her place and kicked off her bedcovers. As long as it was Wells, it was fine.

            The doorknob turned and Wells entered. Clad in his pajamas that were issued to the forty-three surviving Delinquents that were imprisoned in Mount Weather. His troubled expression was enough for Raven to figure out why he was here.

            “Couldn’t sleep either?” she asked.

            Wells shrugged. “Sleeping is sometimes hard after…you know,” he answered.

            Raven could understand. He was there when it happened. She could remember him begging for Cage to stop when she was selected for bone marrow drilling. That there were other options rather than taking it by force. His pleas drowned out Wick’s “Take me instead!” for the most part. Wells wasn’t unaffected from it.

            Back when she was younger, she would often go to Finn’s compartment if a nightmare tore her from her sleep. As her mother was often absent. Tears pricked from her eyes at that memory. It didn’t seem a long time ago when she and Finn were young and innocent, and now Finn was nothing but ashes in an urn that was on her nightstand (at least Anya was courteous enough to present them to her despite the vitriol she might have had towards Finn).

            “Would it creep you out if I asked you if we could keep each other company tonight?” she suggested. “That way we wouldn’t be alone?”

            Wells smiled. “That doesn’t sound creepy at all.”

            As they huddled in bed together, Raven felt like some of the pain and weariness on her shoulders were lifted.

 

* * *

 

            When Roan woke up the next morning, he saw that Clarke was still in the same position she was when he went to sleep. With her head lying on his chest, right close to his heartbeat. Though one of her legs was lying between his own.

            He traced the line of her back with his fingers. Marveling at her smooth and unmarked body. Which wasn’t obviously bearing the scars from years of war. She stirred slightly as he brushed her hair behind her ear before placing a soft kiss on her nose.

            Roan curled his lips in a smile as her eyes slowly opened.

            “Welcome back to the land of the living, Snowflake,” he greeted lightly.

            She stifled a groan. “Don’t remind me, Roan,” she grumbled. Even if she was irritated, she wasn’t moving away from him. Which incited an amused chuckle from him.

            “Enjoyed last night too much to even want to leave the bed?” he postulated. “I could feel the pleasure radiate from you last night.”

            “Truth be told, you weren’t the first guy I had sex with,” she stated, “but last night was better than my first time.”

            “When one is banished for five years, it’s hard to stay celibate,” he said. Remembering his sexual encounters with Moira, an Bounty Hunter who he slept with for three years of his five year banishment; sex without the constraints of a relationship. And from he got for Clarke, he knew that it was the same way. He didn’t expect Echo to still pine for him, as she had a life outside of him.

            She was bound to move on from him.

            “It seems like I’m not the only girl you slept with then,” she surmised, tracing her fingers between the lines of his abs.

            “Far from it,” he answered.

            They laid in silence. Hearing nothing not the calling of the blue jay and the steady sounds of their breathing as he stroked her hair. He could teach her to fight with a sword as he promised the previous day. Though seeing as the sun had yet to reach the horizon, he knew that breakfast could wait.

            “Are you hungry?” he asked her, making sure that she shared his intentions before going through with his desires.

            Clarke licked her lips; wetting them with her salvia before breathing, “Breakfast could wait, don’t you think?”

            “And wait it is,” he said, before rolling her over to her back. He opened her mouth with his fingers before kissing her.

            Though last night’s sex was full of raw passion, he thrust into her gently. As doing so with his usual intensity would make it difficult to teach her combat. It didn’t seem to be lackluster, judging by the moans and cries escaping her body. Like it was enjoyable as the previous night.

            With her nails scratching the scars on his back, it was irritating as it was pleasurable. The pleasure of it only enhancing for him.

            There was no need to count how long they were going about this. It could have been one or two but it didn’t matter. Though the sun was lighting up the room when she came, her body stiffening as she clenched around him. As he had done with her last night and with two people before, he was careful to pull out before releasing his seed.

            They quietly pulled on their clothes minutes later and within an hour later they ate breakfast. Treating the rest of the morning as if it were yesterday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Clarke and Roan have reached the ‘Friends with Benefits’ stage. Technically, FWB’s only have a fifteen percent chance of becoming romantic lovers, from what I read. Even though they are getting to know each other, they haven’t reached the level of romantic attraction as of yet.


	7. Chapter Seven

           

            Clarke gripped the handle of her sword as its blade clanged against Roan’s. Though slightly heavy, it wasn’t as if she couldn’t keep it in her hand without it falling off.

            “Good,” he said, as he withdrew his sword. “How about picking up the speed a notch?”

            It wasn’t the kind of question where she had an answer to give. It was him seeing if she would keep up with him in a new speed like she had in the previous one. It took her nearly a second to react. Jumping back to meet his sword before he could pierce a blade somewhere in her body.

            She was able to keep up with him for two minutes. Meeting her blade with his. That was until she reacted a second late and her sword went flying from her hand.

            “Crap,” she muttered before she went over to pick up her sword. “I’m never going to get this.”

            The sword handle felt alien in her hand. It wasn’t like a gun, which was easy and light to carry around. This sword would be something Octavia could claim in a heartbeat, as she was happily assimilating with the Grounders. As Clarke didn’t see herself wielding this thing.

            Roan’s lips curl into an amused smile. “You will get the hang of it,” he said. “It takes patience and practice.”

            _Only I wasn’t born with a sword in my hand_ , Clarke thought derisively as she said, “You make it sound easy.”

            “If it were easy, it would take a day to master it,” he challenged. “Now, again.”

            They continued. Slamming their blades against each other. Almost always ending with Roan disarming her or for the sword falling out of her hand for whatever reason. Her hands became wet with sweat and she was certain she could feel sweat dripping down her face and neck.

            It was no surprise that Clarke felt relief when Roan called a stop the session. She greedily took his water canteen when offered and took a few swallows.

            “First tries are difficult, they say,” he said as he sat next to her. “One is not bound to succeed in the first day of learning something.”

            Clarke handed him back the canteen and laced her fingers together. She supposed that was true. She remembered with clarity how she didn’t get her arrow to land on the target the first day she and her peers had their first archery lesson. That it took discipline and concentration.

            She supposed that it was the same way with swords. That it required concentration and discipline as well. Though Roan said it would require patience and practice.

            “Patience and practice, right?” she echoed out loud before continuing, “My Earth Skills teacher said it took concentration and discipline to master archery.”

            “Then he must have been a very wise man,” Roan alleged.

            To say that he was wise was an understatement. Pike taught her and her peers everything they needed to know about surviving on the planet. Information that helped her in the long run when they landed. He couldn’t have been among the three hundred and twenty that were culled. He wouldn’t have joined in the coup that resulted in the Exodus Ship crashing. Which meant that he was probably on one of the Ark Stations that descended on the night of the Ring of Fire. Clarke remembered seeing the ship break up upon entry and it didn’t help any when Anya suggested that the stations that didn’t land in Woods Clan territory most likely didn’t receive warm welcoming’s depending where they landed.

            “Were there any ship landings here?” Clarke asked out of mere curiosity.

            “Not that I know of,” Roan mentioned. “Or else Belinda down at the farm would have said something about it. Though I did hear a rumor that a ship with _Skaikru_ landed in Ice Nation. Most of them are probably dead by now. If a few of the survivors scattered into hiding, I would be surprised.”

            If Pike did die, Clarke would have been surprised. For the first things he would have done would be to implement the Earth Skills techniques that he taught.

            When five minutes have passed, they have resumed sword combat training. Within twenty minutes, the clouds moved in and it was already spitting snow when they returned inside the cabin.

            Snow. When she first saw it fall, Clarke remembered the wonder she felt upon actually seeing it. Upon actually feeling it. Something that she didn’t get from some of the pictures she saw. Though that wonder didn’t last long as they had to march towards the Mountain.

            “How about we try something new otherwise just learning orally will become tedious,” Roan said as he pulled a crate from one of the shelves on the wall. He pulled out a wooden box; the words faded but Clarke could still make out the name.

            Scrabble. One of the board games that she and Wells would play in their spare time alongside chess. She shouldn’t have doubted that some copies of the game survived on the ground. That they were passed down from the survivors of the Nuclear Apocalypse.

            It would be predictable that they would prefer games that provided mental stimulation.

            “Playing without the rules of the game?” she asked. For it would be stupid to assume that they would not know something that has been passed down for two centuries.

            “Not if we’re using it for translation,” he premised as he opened the lid of the box. “Our family had possession of a game like this. Passed down from my fifth great-grandfather after _Praimfaya_.”

            Clarke figured it would, as she thought just previously. She took a seat as he removed the wooden board followed by him spilling the word tiles on the table. They divide the tiles and she turns over one tile before continuing with the rest.

            Sensing Roan’s eyes on her as she placed a few tiles on the tile rack before taking out four letters and placing them on the board.

            S-N-O-W

            Clarke watched as his fingers overturn several tiles before placing a handful on the board. Placing a blank tile between words.

            A-S-H D-A-U-N.

            “ _Ash…Daun_?” she asked, hoping that she got it right.

            “Yes,” he answered before saying. “Try another word.”

            This continued in less than an hour. She turned over tiles to spell a word. He would present a translation. At the window behind him, she could see the snow falling like rain; coming down in giant flakes.

            To break the monotony and without speaking about anything personal, she said, “In my life, I only saw snow in pictures or on a screen. I never felt how cold it was or how it would melt in my hands. How beautiful it was to see it fall before me a little over a week ago, before…before I left my people.”

            Roan snorted. “It would be hard to imagine my life without snow,” he said. “It was one of the things that I saw daily as I was growing up.”

            Given the moniker Ice Nation, Clarke shouldn’t have been surprised that there was bound to be snow all year there. Or at least a part of Ice Nation, for it touched borders with the Woods Clan’s territory.

            “Well, you are from Ice Nation,” she surmised. “I shouldn’t be surprised.”

            “You would only get that eternal winter in the northern region,” he clarified. “Not particularly down south, where the southern border reaches _Trikru_ territory.” He gazed at the window behind Clarke. “To say that winter has been my favorite season for the last five years is an understatement.”

            There was wistfulness to his tone that Clarke didn’t miss. As if the sight of snow reminded him of the home he was banished from.

“Do you miss it up there?” she asked him.

He heaved a sigh. “There isn’t a day that I don’t,” he answered. “You would have loved the mountains. Snowcapped, gave it a glacial coating. As for the falls by the capital, they were another novelty. If you would hear them and see them, that meant you were there.”

Given Ice Nation’s location and size based on what she heard, he was most likely referring to Niagara Falls. It would only make sense. Clarke had only seen the falls in pictures and in a footage reel on the Ark. Yet she struggled trying to imagine it surrounded by snow.

The only thing she missed about the Ark was that she didn’t have the lives of her people on her shoulders; that there were other people’s responsibilities. Yet saying that would open a discussion that she didn’t want to have. At least now. He will find out later.

“I missed the company of my siblings, my younger sister especially,” he continued. He drew a sigh, “and there was this girl back there, well…”

Clarke could feel her palms sweating. She knew what direction this conversation was heading: where they would both talk about a past loves. A conversation that she dreaded as well, especially given the image of the blood pooling from Finn’s shirt as he was tied to a pole. By her own hand. Perhaps this was bad timing, for the memory of her and Roan’s first sexual encounter from last night and their second from this morning was still fresh in her mind

Yet, rather this then Mount Weather.

“Was there someone special back home?” she asked him.

“You could say that,” he said with a chuckle. “We trained together, played together…basically grew up together. We both made a pact to run away together back when we were young, long before we kissed.” He shook his head. “How foolish and idealistic we both were, unprepared for what might follow. I asked her to come with me when I was banished,” and he drew another sigh. “She didn’t in fear of retribution from the Queen.”

The way he said the _Queen_ in such venom was indication that he held contempt for her. That she was the reason for his banishment. Clarke couldn’t blame him, as she literally tore him from his siblings. Yet, she understood that resentment, given everything that happened with her and Lexa.

“It’s been five years,” he continued. “She must have moved on by now. Probably thinks the same of me.”

“Had you?” she asked.

“If you count having a friend with benefits for three years,” he answered. “If you count last night and the nights to come between us.”

If Clarke was certain, this wasn’t going to be a one night thing. They were bound to go at it again tonight. While she restrained herself from wanting to tear off his clothes right now, the same wouldn’t be said when they reach the bedroom. Even though her and Roan’s sex was born out of her need to drift away from her nightmare, pleasure wise, it was the best Earth sex she ever had since reaching the ground. Better than her first time with Finn.

Speaking of Finn –

Clarke took a deep breath. _Here goes_ , she thought before saying, “I never dated anyone back in the Ark but when I landed, there was this boy,” she said, remembering the first time they met; when he made the stupid decision of leaving his seat. Causing the death of two other boys. “His name was Finn.” She bit her lips, debating her next words. “He was fun, stupidly idealistic, and…he was the first one that made me smile.”

She looked up at Roan; who was slowly nodding his head and fingers to his lips. As if he had a feeling that he knew where this story was headed. “This was this boy you had sex with before?” he asked, “or the first?”

“The first,” she answered. “We knew each other for ten days before our sexual encounter.” Remembering a distraught Finn throwing things around in the “Art Supply Store” after Jasper accidentally fried the rest of the wristbands. How she tried to assure that he wasn’t alone and how seconds later they were tearing their clothes off from each other’s bodies. “That night, a pod came down and it happened to carry his girlfriend.”

“I had a feeling this wasn’t pleasant,” she could hear him mutter. “How did you find out?”

“They kissed in front of me,” she answered, flinching as she remembered that day and the things after. “It didn’t help that she noticed. It didn’t help that he still wanted a relationship with me.”

“Sounds almost like my brother,” Roan stated before releasing a snort that sounded almost like a gag. “Hopefully this story ended with the two of you letting him go, because stringing you two along like that indicates a lack of respect.”

Clarke never saw it that way. She never saw Finn’s pursuit of her even when Raven landed and him trying to keep that relationship with Raven as a lack of respect for the two of them. As for the story ending with her and Raven both breaking up with him, she wished it was how it ended as she remembered the blood covering her hand and the blade that Raven gave her to kill Lexa if she refused to let Finn go (oh how she wished that she imbedded the blade in Lexa’s heart instead).

And at this moment, were when she felt the tears. “No,” she gasped, as she shook her head. “It didn’t end like that. I killed him.”

She heard Roan shift in his seat and she had to brush the tears from her eyes to see that he was a little surprised by this direction.

“He was the one that killed those eighteen people,” she choked. “He thought they were holding me and my friends hostage. He lost it and started shooting. He did it for me, he said.” She shook her head as she remembered the sight of him lifelessly tied to a pole after piercing his heart. “I killed him because they were going to execute him slowly. I had to.”

Clarke brushed her nose with her arm as she heard Roan sigh, as if he was thinking how to proceed. It didn’t help that she knew that she had an idea where he might turn the conversation given that he made clear where he stood regarding her people’s conflict with _Trikru_ and that she told him that Finn cheated.

“Do you really believe that he did it for you?” Roan asked.

Not wanting to lie and give a vague answer, she gave a nod.

“Let me tell you something,” he said as he took his chair and placed it next to her before sitting next to her. “When he said that he was doing it for you, he was placing the responsibility of those deaths on you. He’s saying ‘It is your fault I killed those people’.”

“I...” she started before coming to the conclusion that she never saw it that way either. Coming to think of it, she never heard him express regret what he did from her memory. He never did say, “I screwed up. I thought I was saving our friends.” He just said, “It was an accident.”  “It never occurred to me that it was probably like that,” she continued.

“That’s what it reeks of to me,” said Roan. “Any boy that does that for a girl, especially one he should never have had, is garbage. Isn’t worth your pity. He shouldn’t have been defended even.”

Clarke wasn’t surprised at those words, given his distaste of the massacre. Though the words didn’t sting as she thought they would.

“There is a monster inside all of us, Clarke, and we’re all responsible for what it does when it comes out,” were Lincoln’s words after she came back with news of the Commander’s request. How she regretted to have never understood the weight of those words.

“My mother, my friends, and myself tried jumping through the hoops of fire so he would avoid that fate,” she admitted.  

He swallowed before saying, “Ironic since you said your leadership floated people left and right to conserve resources. Had it been his own people he killed, do you think you would have taken that risk?”

How Clarke wished those words weren’t true, for if Finn shot up Camp Jaha, Raven would have disowned him, Bellamy wouldn’t be motivated to protect him, and she herself wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with him. Not to mention he would have been executed.

The Grounders never thought of the Mountain Men as human. Perhaps she and her people were guilty of never seeing the Grounders as human as well. Though Octavia seemed to be an outstanding exception.

 

* * *

 

Lincoln had expected a kill order. As far as he could remember, any _Trikru_ warrior that left their people or the battlefield without the consent of his superior was considered unworthy of living. That they should pay the price for abandoning their family and allies.

He didn’t expect Commander Lexa to bereave him of his clan. It would make sense that they would chose that route instead of banishment, for the _Skaikru_ settlement was within _Trikru_ territory.

He remembered Kane’s grim expression when he told him after he and Abby returned from Brighton Village in their meeting with Tristan, Anya, and Indra. “That is what the Commander could think of,” Kane told him. “They say that you are allowed to travel throughout the territory and that you can still have your friends, but otherwise, your citizenship among the clan has been declared null and void.”

While he wasn’t confined within the _Skaikru_ settlement, Lincoln couldn’t help but feeling discarded by his clan. As if he was garbage that they didn’t want after the previous two months. He didn’t understand why some people were surprised at his disappointment. Denouncing the violence in his culture and seeing himself as _Trikru_ , as part of his clan, shouldn’t be mutually exclusive. Abby had to bandage his knuckles after he battered them against the metal walls against their settlement.

Not to mention Octavia was pressed about it. “The Commander can’t just do that,” she demanded. “She can’t just take away your identity.”

Even though he corrected her, that no matter what Lexa decided, that he still identified himself as _Trikru_ in his heart, it didn’t help that it was wearing him down.

Kane meant well by offering a place in the Guard, though Lincoln preferred to make himself useful by working alongside Chancellor Griffin and her assistant, Jackson, in the medical bay. Fortunately they reached a compromise that would involve him teaching the new recruits combat, use a set of bow and arrows instead of a gun and in turn he would help at the medical bay on weekends.

Lincoln redressed the bandages on his knuckles as he sat on the bed in the compartment he was sharing with Octavia. Who was lying on the other side of the bed.

“I heard Anya is going to acquaint you with Helios,” he said, wanting to make conversation. “She’s a good horse. Served Anya well.”

There was silence from her before she muttered, “I wish you would come with me. They are more your people.”

Lincoln drew a sigh. “I have to teach hand to hand combat with the new recruits,” he pointed out.

Octavia scoffed. “I don’t understand why you took that job,” she muttered. “Especially when you know how other _Trikru_ view guns.”

“Kane was kind enough to make sure I wouldn’t use a gun,” he pointed out.

“Gun or not, you don’t belong with them, Lincoln,” said Octavia, sitting up. “They will strip everything until you become unrecognizable.”

“And you have no trouble assimilating with my clan,” he pointed out. He wanted to tell her that she was missing an important part; that being _Trikru_ was more than just picking up a sword and fight; that it was also about helping your family and allies but Octavia wouldn’t want to hear it. For she has it set that in her mind she knew everything.

“They are different then the people that were the reason I had to hide,” she justified, laying back down on their bed.

While they didn’t have limitations of offspring that the Ark were said to implement and though not every crime was met with execution and torture, they were still ruthless. Had it been reverse, his people would have done the same things as her people did up in space.

 

* * *

 

            The warm glow of the soft orange flame within a lantern radiated through the bedroom as Roan softly tapped his fingers up her spine. Her breath slightly quickened from his touch on her bare skin and he’s confident her heart picked up pace when he brushed his lips on the skin between her shoulder and neck before kissing her skin. Like whatever high she was feeling after their third round of sex was still lingering, though he was certain his own high lingered as well.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked as his hand turned its attention to her waist.

She shifted, turning her entire body towards him. Propping her weight on her elbow, she asked, “How do you celebrate holidays? The same as the time before the end or different?”

Her question was enough for him to curl his lips into a smile. Roan had no intention of starving her curiosity. “A little bit of both,” he answered. “Every August up in Ice Nation, we have something called the Day of Beginnings, where we celebrate the founding of our clan.” In Roan’s memory, Day of Beginnings was something he looked forward back when he was a young boy. He had enjoyed hearing the tales of the first Ice Nation King and his successful conquests up north. How lively and animated the evening feasts in the palace were as some people reenacted key moments of the clan’s history. How he and Echo would watch the festival taking place in the city around the palace. It was one of the only days where the impoverished never went to bed hungry. “People would feast, tell stories, reenact them, and the festival in the capital would be lively with music and entertainment. The nobility ate well, as usual.”

Clarke laughs softly, as if intrigued by his words. Like she’s fascinated to hear about a culture other than her own. “Did they have good food?” she asked.

“Like all celebrations would, usually,” he answered. Curious to see what she had to present, he asked, “What unique holiday did your people celebrate in that Space Castle?”

She drew a deep breath before exhaling. She said: “Up in the Ark, we would have something called Unity Day. In the beginning, it started out as twelve individual stations orbiting the Earth. Two years after the bombs, as they knew they would not survive alone, they joined together to form the Ark. That’s how we survived for two centuries. If we didn’t, we all would have died sooner.”

Just like the Coalition, he had heard. Eleven large groups of survivors joined together under the First Commander. As to share resources from their respective territories and establish peace after a violent fire that killed most of the world. Though his Fifth Great-Grandfather refused to join as he denounced the First Commander a hypocrite and got into a war with a few of the clans of that Coalition that shared their borders, resulting in the Commander’s involvement. As always, he could tell that there was a vital piece of the story that Clarke left out.

“Is there another aspect of that story?” he asked.

“You want me to spare the gory details?” she asked.

“I have witnessed bloodshed on battlefields,” he retorted. “I’m no stranger to unpleasant details.”

Clarke pondered for a moment, tapping her fingers against his bare chest. “When the bombs fell, the total stations that were orbiting the Earth were thirteen,” she revealed. “One of the stations, Alpha, which hailed from America or what was once America, came up with the plan to have all stations unite, as it would extend resources. One station refused to join and two other stations threatened to follow their lead. The thirteenth station did decide to join but it was too late, as it was passed the deadline to connect with the stations. To set an example to the other stations, Alpha obliterated the thirteenth station.”

Blowing up a station to get the others to comply. That sounded a lot like sieging independent settlements when the clan ventured up north. Sparing anyone that could be of use and killing anyone that would be a drain on resources. That it was for their survival that they be annexed, as King William written in his journal that was stored in his crypt under the palace.

“Back when society decided to build itself up again after _Praimfaya_ , William, Ice Nation’s founder, heard of independent survival colonies up north,” he answered. “He thought that they wouldn’t last if isolated. That they would become extinct in a matter of few years. Under that belief, he and his followers traveled up north, performing sieges on those settlements. They spared only those with valuable skills, to indoctrinate them as well. The rest, they killed as they thought they would be a strain on resources.”

Clarke swallowed and judging by her eyes, it was as if she was visualizing it. “He slaughtered them just like that?” she asked.

“Might not have been as quick as that other tin can in the sky but still with bloody origins like your people,” he pointed out. “When they have gone a hundred miles past the Niagara Falls, they stopped there. He didn’t want to risk losing his people to the harsh elements. It was then that he renamed the clan Ice Nation.”

“If it wasn’t Ice Nation in the beginning, what was it called first?” she asked.

“Something like the Second Dawn, I think it was,” he answered. “They existed before _Praimfaya_. In that era, they would be considered a cult, if I heard correctly.”

 Clarke furrowed her brows, as if she was trying to place something within a memory. “Doesn’t ring a bell,” she answered. “I don’t remember reading something like that within the news archives.”

“Do your people know why the Earth was set on fire two centuries ago?” he asked.

“All we know was that it was sudden,” she answered. “That China launched twenty-seven nukes for no reason.”

 _How she’ll surprised she’ll be_ , he thought. “I could tell you but it would take all night and it will veer off from our subject,” he said. “Now, is there a particular holiday that your people passed down?”

“Christmas and Easter,” she answered. Her answer was predictable, to say the least. For those two holidays that didn’t relate to the founding of the old nations. “We had pageants for the young children. People had to pitch together rations though things like hot chocolate were a rare commodity. We had our families though, and that’s what counted.”

With limited resources, holiday festivities would be lackluster. They wouldn’t have enough to have the bountiful feasts that his family had during those two holidays. Though the same wouldn’t have been for the people living in slum part of the city.

“You didn’t think Father Christmas had the power to pay a visit to your Space Castle?” he asked.

“Father Christmas as in the later personification or old folklore?” she asked.

“Folklore,” he answered. “The absence of folklore would only take the fun out of it.”

With only one month until December, it wouldn’t hurt to share some of his Christmas traditions. Though she might share some cultural things that might have still existed among her people.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Roan was the first to leave the bed. Slipping into his clothes as he muttered about retrieving a notice if there was any attached to his cabin. Clarke followed a few minutes later. Slipping her legs into her underwear and trousers before snagging her bra. After hooking it in the front and adjusting the front to her breasts, she saw glistening red on her hands.

For a moment, she saw it as she gazed at her hands. Red blood, glistening and running down from her hands. As if they were completely drenched in them like paint.

If it didn’t nauseate her then, the image of her blood soaked hands blistering red as if exposed to radiation was enough for her to vomit bile. She swallowed, as the image of Mount Weather’s Mess Hall resurfaced. Shivering as she could remember the stench of the burning flesh that perforated the air.

She blinked, tears streaming down her cheeks, and when she opened her eyes with a gasp her hands were clean. Clarke tried shaking the horrified imagery of burned and blood soaked hands as she slipped on her sleeveless shirt.

The image still rattled her as she and Roan departed minutes later. The subject: a woman by the name of Cerie, hailing from The Lake People, who was wanted for double murder and robbery. The reward being the option of a horse or trading trinkets.

“I don’t understand why you would reject the horse,” she said when Roan vocalized his preference for the latter reward. “Don’t you want to give your feet a break?”

“As convenient as it would be, it wouldn’t do me good in obtaining a catch,” he answered. “They are more apt to run.”

“It would be faster, though,” she pointed out. Ever since her youth, Clarke always loved to read about horses and the pictures of their majestic appearance had her at awe. One of her dreams depicted her riding on a copper colored mare through a meadow; with the sun bathing her face and the breeze surrounding her. When she landed, she was disappointed at the lack of horses around the Dropship and she came to the conclusion that they might have been rendered extinct by the bombs. Until the failed meeting at the bridge when she saw Anya and two of her guards arrive on horseback.

“One of my goals is to be as quiet as possible,” he stated. “Horses are not the quietest creatures when startled if I’m honest.”

“Then give the horse to me,” she offered, thinking that it might make a good compromise. “Anyone that we’re getting will have their eyes on me anyway. That way you could track them without a sound as you desire.”

He seemed to think about it before concluding: “That might be something that I might consider.” Roan turned to the fabric and analyzed it. “It was suggested that she might cross down into the Shallow Valley. Heading south.”

“South?” she asked.

“Fugitives often run the opposite direction from where they committed the crime,” Roan explained. “That way no one would find them.”

That didn’t sound too illogical. Not impossible to think that anyone would go to the opposite direction. Though –

“Why Shallow Valley though?” she asked.

“A relative said she was running towards the southern coast of the Eastern Sea,” he clarified. “People on the run avoid _Trikru_ territory as that is the home of Mount Weather. Though I doubt that the entire Coalition knows yet. It takes a month and a half for each clan to hear about something.”

 _Though that might depend if Lexa gets any news from the Woods Clan_ , Clarke thought to herself. The Woods Clan was bound to know by now about what happened at Mount Weather. Anya would be the first to tell Lexa, as she naturally would. She could just see Lexa taking the all the credit for every life that was lost just to boost her prestige among the Coalition; while conveniently ignoring the fact that she forced Clarke’s hand.

And that made Clarke sick to her stomach.

“Have people ever tried to get into Ice Nation if they come from the south?” she asked.

“I am not allowed to have assignments if a fugitive’s route is though there,” he pointed out. “I’m not allowed to step foot into Ice Nation, make contact with anyone from Ice Nation, and even stepping into the Ice Nation quarter of Polis would be breaking the terms. Though I have heard from others that fugitives rarely go into Ice Nation if they go up north. It would be suicide as they would freeze to death if they reach the Falls. The winters up there are unpredictable to the point where a modest snowfall could evolve into a blinding blizzard within ten minutes.”

Concerning the radiation’s effect on the planet, Clarke wouldn’t be surprised if the global climate was wonky as a result.

Roan placed his hand in front of Clarke’s abdomen to stop her from moving when they hear the wheels of a wagon. The wagoner being a man around his thirties. With a group of three children sitting in the back with crates of what looked like fruits and vegetables.

“Probably farmers on their way to the markets in one of the nearby towns,” Roan theorizes before gesturing her to walk forward. “Perhaps the city capital of this clan depending on where we are standing.”

One of the nearby towns. Clarke had never seen close pockets of population upon entering the Blue Cliff Clan’s territory but Grounders never placed their villages and other population centers close together. The Grounder population was spread out, as she observed in the Woods Clan territory.

“Have you ever gone to the villages here?” she asked him curiously.

Roan exhale before answering. “I preferred not to, as limited contact would make my banishment less painful. Though I have indulged myself in sex a few times for three of the five years.”

Clarke felt that it reminded her of her desire to remain reclusive from the rest of the population after the incident in Mount Weather. Though coming across Roan literally a day after leaving Camp Jaha didn’t help matters.

“Funny,” she said. “I had that same goal until I met you. That it was best if I was alone.”

For hours, they trekked through wilderness. Stopping whenever a person was nearby as to let them through: farmers passing through or wagons loaded with chopped lumber. Clarke expected to see a checkpoint of Blue Cliff warriors, as the Woods Clan were said to have some scattered throughout their territory. Unless Roan took a route that bypassed them.

“Don’t be surprised if you see a lot of sheep after we cross the border,” he reminded.

Sheep. That could mean one thing. “We might cross with shepherds?” she asked him.

“You learn something new every day, Snowflake,” he answered with a smile.

It must have been late afternoon when Clarke spotted a wooden sign erected next to a tree. The symbol etched was a small circle with three curved arrows positioned running vertically upwards. _You Are Entering The Shallow Valley_ were the words in English above the symbol; with a Trigedasleng translation at the bottom.

From a distance, Clarke thought that she could the sound of bleating sheep. Probably not too close due to the volume of it. Though, she thought she could clearly see a small building half a mile away. With people that looked like warriors.

Great. A checkpoint.

“There is a trading post beyond that checkpoint,” Roan whispered as they near the border. “He’s a favorite among other bounty hunters for his eagerness to give information about someone passing by.”

“Have you had a post trader lie about a fugitive to protect them?” Clarke asked him.  She wouldn’t have been surprised, as some people have had harbored wanted criminals in the past.

“They all know if they did, they might not walk upright again,” he answered. “One post trader from the Broadleaf Clan was nearly beaten to death because she gave false information about a horse thief. Turns out she was harboring the girl.”

Having passed the border, Clarke saw a wagon heading the opposite direction stop at the border. A few words were exchanged between the checkpoint officers and the wagoner before the latter is sent on his way. Only when passing the wagon did Clarke see that the cargo were layers upon layers of what looked like sheared sheep wool.

Clarke assumed that the wool was going to be delivered to weavers in the area so they could transform the wool into clothes or winter bed sheets and bedspreads.

Dialogue is exchanged between one of the checkpoint officers and Roan. After what sounds like a question, Roan pulled out a piece of cloth that included just his name and a symbol etched under it. The warrior took one look at the cloth in his hand before passing it back to Roan and gesturing him forward.

Clarke wagered there was something about it that prevented one of them from inquiring about her. Probably was that form of identification, which would make sense as Roan hinted that Bounty Hunters were not to be messed with.

 

* * *

 

“ _Any information yet_?” was the question of one Princess Lagertha as she poured some ale into a cup.

“ _Not according to what I hear among the rest of the palace guard_ ,” Echo answered as some ale was poured into her own cup. “ _Nicolae thinks of upping the ante. That he should get him talking the next day_.”

“ _I don’t understand why mother insisted on keeping him alive_ ,” Lagertha scoffed as she sat down across from her. “ _Keeping a member of the Woods Clan alive because of her Nightblood is one thing but a parasite from Mount Weather_ …” She scoffed. “ _If mother finds another excuse to keep him alive, he’ll be a drain on resources. That is what Magnus said_.”

“ _I’m sure your mother will find a good reason_ ,” Echo assured her. “ _She always does, and the Head Advisor should come around. If anything, that parasite could confirm those rumors emerging from Woods Clan territory_.”

Two days ago, one of their riders from Polis had said that they heard from _Trikru_ that after two hundred years of infallibility, the Mountain had fallen. Last time Echo knew, the parasites freed her and other prisoners from that torture chamber as they have found better “treatment for their weakness” they said. The Queen, however, sneered at that possibility for the Mountain was too powerful to be wiped out like that. Unless this prisoner can confirm it.

“ _If it doesn’t amount to anything, I want to be the one to slice his throat_ ,” she said.

One of the things that Echo admired about Lagertha was her fierceness; which nearly mirrored her mother’s. She would have done her mother proud if she took the throne, though that would have gone to Aspen since Lagertha expressed little to no desire in taking the throne.

As tough as he was, Aspen wasn’t suited to be king how Echo saw it. Nymeria wouldn’t hold a candle either due to her meekness. Oh how Echo wished that she was there to slice the head off that _Trikru_ bitch’s shoulders when she proposed that one of Queen Nia’s children be banished if they were to join the Coalition. For Roan could have been married, had a child and be king by now as a result of being able to reproduce. Though she herself wouldn’t have been a worthy contender for his bride as Nia had her mind set on an Earl’s daughter to be her son’s bride a couple of days before the banishment was ever enforced.

“ _I heard mother is putting an alert within the clan about these Marauders from the Sky_ ,” Lagertha iterated as she tipped her cup to her lips. “ _They allegedly cleaned out winter rations from a village’s supply store two hours from their landing point_.”

Echo wasn’t blind to that. As she was among those drafted to be dispatched to the southern end of the territory, as she possessed the skills. As much as she was eager to show these Marauders what pain feels like, this put her far from Costia unfortunately. As for this development about stealing an entire village worth of winter rations, Echo couldn’t help but feel disgust curdling her intestines.

“ _They will be lucky if they freeze to death before starving_ ,” she craved.

A small knock is heard at the door. “ _Come in_ ,” Lagertha answered.

The doors opened to reveal Ontari, Queen Nia’s handmaid. As far as Echo remembered, Ontari was brought to Gara by force when soldiers raided a village in the Lake People’s territory years back. “ _Why is mother requesting audience this time?_ ” Lagertha sighed tiredly

“ _Your mother wishes to see you and your siblings in the East Drawing Room_ ,” the raven haired girl answered. “ _She didn’t say why_.”

Lagertha muttered under her breath as she unseated herself from her chair. Once the _Hainofi_ has left the room, Ontari had turned her attention to her abandoned ale.

“ _Rumor has it, that parasite is about to crack_ ,” said Ontari. “ _Whatever it is, I’m hoping that it shakes up Polis_.”

“ _Depends what it is_ ,” Echo iterated as Ontari drank from the cup that Lagertha left. “ _I’ll take anything for that Commander to learn her lesson after forcing the Queen to humiliate herself by bending her knee to her. For taking her son away from her_.”

“ _Which means it might be promising, Echo_ ,” Ontari surmised. “ _It might be something that we might use to bring that bitch from Polis down. That will enable Roan to return and the rats from the sky will no longer be under those blights’ blanket of protection_.”

If that parasite did break and if it were what Ontari hoped it would be, Roan returning would be as if Christmas came early. Though Echo wasn’t willing to throw Bellamy under the bus with the rest of his people.

 

* * *

 

On top of a hill, ten minutes away from the Shallow Valley’s border checkpoint was their destination. It was no stranger to see sheep located in Jakob’s trading post. They were always there, though it could be said that his brother was a shepherd.

That is if Roan heard correctly.

Clarke silently followed him as he crossed towards the gate and he observed that not only Jakob’s brother was outside in the pen where the sheep were located but he could see Jakob’s wife and daughter in the back hanging laundry.

 _The sight of me will put a damper on their day_ , Roan thought to himself. As if he didn’t sense it beforehand, the post trader’s wife turned her glance towards him and it was like the blood was drained from her olive pallor. Then her daughter noticed.

Regarding whether he thought that they were ignoring Clarke or not, it was possible that they assumed she was another bounty hunter accompanying him. Bounty hunters rarely paired up to capture a criminal as they are often competitive but when they do, it’s often if they both have something to gain.

Though lures in the form of a human beings weren’t technically illegally. Yet, he knew only two that had a human lure as most thought that it was best to lure with inanimate objects. The woman said something to her daughter, who ran into the trading post.

He thought he could see Clarke’s eyes follow the little girl as Jakob’s brother notices him.

The woman didn’t move. Merely she watched them as she continued her laundry. Roan reckoned that she thought silence was best. It was best not to say anything at all then give false information out of duress.

When they approach the door, Clarke steps to the side so he could open the door.

“ _They are just going after the bad people, Thyri_ ,” he heard Jakob say in assurance to his daughter as he walked in. The post trader looked up when he saw him enter and the child walks away when he cracked a smile. “ _Good afternoon_ ,” he greeted. “ _Is there anyone in particular you are looking for?_ ”

“ _I have no doubt you will tell us when I show you_ ,” said Roan. He took the flyer from his overcoat and unfolded it on the counter. “ _Has this woman ever entered your trading post recently? She was running from the Lake People and it’s suspected that she might get through Shallow Valley to reach Broadleaf territory_.”

Though it was to be predictably expected, Jakob’s face lit up in giddy recognition. “She is easy to place,” he answered. “ _Saw her about a half an hour ago. Was suspiciously in a hurry from what I remember. Said she was going to take the path straight from here to the Broadleaf border_.”

Straight from here. Catching her shouldn’t be too difficult. How and when will be determined. Most likely she hasn’t gone off too far if she was on foot that is.

“ _Then tracking her shouldn’t be a problem_ ,” Roan answered as he retrieved the notice and placed it back into his overcoat. “ _Thank you for your help, Jakob_.”

He nodded as Roan retraced his steps back to the door; where Clarke was standing. She followed him quietly as he exited. Both not speaking until they exit the property of the trading post.

“Straight from here and towards Broadleaf as of a half a hour ago,” he answered once they were out of earshot.

“How long is it from here to the border on foot?” she asked him.

“A few hours,” he answered. “She might not have gotten too far.”

Unless she stole a horse and was far ahead; which made it tracking and retrieving her difficult. Though that was a rare occurrence.

If they catch this person, he might as well give Clarke her horse.

           

 

 

 


	8. Chapter Eight

            Blood pumped in her fingers as the grass and leaves crunched under her feet. Her fingers grasping her arrow and bow tightly. There was a chance that the person they were looking for was here, Roan said. There were no scuff marks to indicate that she was on horseback. That most likely she was on foot.

            Roan was several paces behind. Concealing himself as he was watching if she came across the person they were looking for. Though Clarke knew that he would quietly follow her.

            So far they haven’t crossed anyone. Just them in the pocket of trees within a valley. Shallow Valley wasn’t heavily wooded like the Woods Clan territory. Blue Cliffs had its forests though the trees were spread out depending on what area they were at.

            When she landed, Clarke had tried to imagine buildings around her. Buildings that probably once stood before they were decimated in the Nuclear Apocalypse. Where she was standing was either a suburb or a bustling metropolis, which was now overtaken by nature. Though geographical changes took place, with one part frozen and another area a desert.

            She stopped for a moment to take a few swallows from her water container. _The Grounders have found a way to insulate these_ , she mused as she screwed the cap shut. Though the container was cool to the touch, the water was cold.

            Gazing at the sky, the sun was slowly reaching the horizon. Not long before it disappears from view and then nightfall will come.

            When a twig snaps, Clarke turns towards the source; cautiously raising her arrow to shoot if the circumstances are right for it. It could not be her. It could be someone else just passing through. However, Clarke knew that lowering her guard might result in her death.

            Footsteps sound closer though she didn’t loosen her hold on her weapons. Especially with a woman matching the description emerged from the pocket of trees.

            “Drop it,” she hissed. Her tone implicating that she would have terrible things in store if she didn’t comply.

            Though Clarke’s fight senses were desperately overwhelming her brain, she knew she had to keep this woman here long enough so Roan could detain her. Breathing deeply though knowing that Roan was nearby she set down her bow before unstrapping the quiver from her body.

            From her peripheral vision, she thought she saw Roan sneaking closer to their location. Though her brain was screaming that she wanted him to rush towards them. Especially for their target advanced towards her. Taking her neck with one hand before Clarke could think to take a sharp object from her pants.

            “Give me your pack,” she hissed. Her face close enough that she could smell her smell her stale breath. “Give me what you have or “ – she drags the blade of her knife to Clarke’s leg and she winced as searing pain started to make its way there “- it will cost you your entire leg, girl.”

            She could comply like the last time but given that Cerie was wanted for robbing her victims before killing them, she knew that wasn’t a risk to take. In order to give Roan a window for catching her and for her own survival, Clarke used her free leg to kick her in the shin.

            Cerie bent over. Groaning in pain as Clarke managed to take the knife from her hands. Her frantic breathing echoing her escalating pulse as Roan went behind the fugitive. Wrapping his arm under her jaw and tightening his grip on her.

            Clarke watched as the woman went limp in his arms. Her eyes fluttering shut. Figuring that Roan would need some help, Clarke ignored the searing pain in her leg as she stepped forward. She opened his pack and pulled out a piece of coiled rope; handing it to him.

            “How deep did she cut you?” he asked her as he tightened the rope around his captive’s wrists.

            “I am fine, Roan,” she answered, though she knew he might prove her wrong. Though she wasn’t certain if she believed her own words even.

            Like her suspicions never failed her, Roan tore a piece of fabric from the wounded area of her leg. Blood was smeared, though there was some blood blossoming from her wound.

            “As it appears you are not,” he said. Once he had finished tightening the restraints on his captive, he placed his arm around her back before placing the other arm under her legs. Lifting her up and taking her to a pocket of trees.

            “Put me down,” she insisted. “I can make the walk myself. You didn’t ask for my help when that guy messed up your arm.”

            “A wounded leg is completely different then a arm,” he grumbled. “Since your mother was a healer, seems like that shouldn’t have escaped you.”

            Roan set her down softly against a tree before rifling into his bag. He took out a case of medicine and retrieved a vial and syringe. Probably a coagulant to slow the bleeding before he could do anymore.

“Do you want me to take care of it?” she asked as he inserted the vial into the syringe. “It needs to be sanitized beforehand.”

“I sterilized the needle right after I have used it last,” he retorted as he stuck the needle to the flesh by her wound. She winced, though not as much as she would have back when she had her first shot as a little girl. “If you think they would never pass that information down after _Praimfaya_ , you will be surprised.”

If they were able to pass down Scrabble and chess, they were bound to pass down knowledge of medicine and diseases. Clarke scolded herself for being stupid not to realize that Grounders wouldn’t be that ignorant.

It only took a minute for Roan to retrieve their captive and tie her to a nearby tree. And it didn’t take a long either to make a fire. Having retrieved a roll of bandages from his pack, he heated the blade until it was glowing red.

When it came to wound cauterizing, Clarke did it two times. Once with Lincoln and once with Roan just recently. She never had her wound cauterized personally. Feeling the burning hot blade greet her flesh, it was like her body was screaming in agony from the scorching burn. Clarke couldn’t help but let out a strangled scream, from the white hot burning was more then what she experienced physically

“Easy,” he said. “The first time is bound to hurt the worst.”

Clarke couldn’t tell whether he was talking from experience or whether he was trying to make her feel better. Though that didn’t stop her from gritting her teeth as he removed the blade from her leg. It was like her skin was melted together and she refrained herself from touching it, though there was the temptation.

She analyzed his hands as he wrapped the bandage around her leg. It seemed like had done this before. As if someone had taught him wound care sometime during his life. Especially considering the ease of which he was doing this.

“You didn’t have to,” she rasped as he stored away the roll of bandages. “I would have taken care of it myself.”

He looked at her eye level and said, “You tended to my arm a few days ago. So it’s only fair that I do the same to your leg.”

 

* * *

 

Octavia Blake had never felt freer when she was on Helios’ saddle. Her black hair and braids flowing through the wind was euphoric as the horse galloped through the woods. As if she was flying.

At one point she actually spread out her arms as if she were actually a bird. A bird that was released from its cage. Though she was freed from her prison a few months ago.

Brushing Helios’ mane with a brush, Octavia lost herself in thought. She tried imagining a life where she was born on this planet; born within the _Trikru_. She could perfectly picture herself growing up among the people. Learning how to hunt and fish for food since childhood. Perhaps be born in Indra’s village and learn under her much earlier. A life where her mother would live normally as the weaver and Bellamy being one of the guards who protect the village. Octavia would have known Lincoln earlier in this parallel life where she wouldn’t have to be hidden.

“I guess they weren’t joking that they said you rode into Camp Jaha,” she heard Bellamy’s voice sound behind her.

She paused and turned; looking to see her brother approaching her; his hands in his pockets.

“Let you off early?” she asked resentfully. “Thought they could use less of a muscle?”

“Octavia,” he started with a sigh, “I joined because I care about everyone in this camp.”

She rolled her eyes as she slammed the brush. “That’s what you think,” she said. “The Guard was the reason I had to remain hidden. Our mother allowed herself to be taken advantage by them so she could keep me hidden and they executed her after I was discovered. You didn’t want to listen to them when they came down and now you joined them along with Lincoln, who they should have never recruited?”

Lincoln accepting was a mistake. Assimilation into the Guard would only strip him of his background. Strip him down until she no longer recognized him.

“I haven’t forgotten that,” Bellamy persisted, affronted as if she thought he would. “However, they are under new leadership and things will get better than they were before. They have to.”

Even if they do, she still wasn’t going to claim the _Skaikru_ with the exception of her brother, Raven, and a few of her friends as her people. _Trikru_ were more of her people then the _Skaikru_ ever were.

“Don’t pretend that Lincoln was forced to assimilate with us,” Bellamy continued. “It’s his choice. You have no problem picking up a sword and following the _Trikru_ with their warrior culture but Lincoln joining the Guard is a problem?”

Octavia sighed and continued brushing her horse’s mane. She was tired of explaining her justification for it. The Guard and _Trikru_ warriors were not the same. Something that she wished that Bellamy and Lincoln would understand.

“O,” he said, putting her hand to her shoulder. “It will get better. You are going to have to trust me.”

“When?” she asked listlessly. She wanted to trust Bellamy. He was her brother. He took care of her for sixteen years. Again, even if things do get better, she will still be reminded of the day her mother flew out of the air lock.

 

* * *

 

With Clarke’s injured leg, Roan didn’t feel it was fair to have her hunt for dinner while he watched their captive. Yet it wasn’t like she was weak, as she would have figured a way to incapacitate her if she ever tried escaping. She wasn’t that weak as he observed.

With that in mind, he made the decision to head out and hunt for some dinner. Though the catch wasn’t as big as he hoped, three rabbits were not bad. In fact, better than nothing he thought. Clarke was in the same position as he last saw her last: leaning against a tree. With the knee of her good leg raised up as she sharpened a knife with a whetstone.

The captive was still tied in a tree where he left her. The only difference was that she appeared to be rousing from unconsciousness.

Clarke turned her gaze to him the moment she sensed his presence. She wasn’t disappointed about his catches either from the looks of it.

“Rabbit meat is on the menu for tonight?” she asked as he had kneeled next to her.

“The only things I could find,” he said as he took out a knife and handed it to her. Clarke took the handle from his fingers and without asking any questions, she picked up one of the rabbits and began cutting the blade into the animal’s fur. There was something surgical and precise in the way she was skinning the rabbit. He noticed it before when they were skinning deer a few days back after hunting.

In any case, it seemed like the _Skaikru_ never forgot how to perform surgeries. To think otherwise would be illogical.

When the rabbits were skinned and diced, they roasted them over the fire before eating their dinner. He was rarely kind to captives, as pity wasn’t required of the job of procuring criminals. Though unless he wanted his captive to collapse from hunger and dehydration, it was prudent to lower the gag temporarily so he could give her some food. Which he did.

Clarke had fallen asleep about a half hour after eating. Curled up with her knees close to her face. It was interesting, to watch people sleep. People’s minds often drifted towards other places. Either places beyond their wildest dreams, nightmares that stretch the imagination or memories that repeat themselves through various ways.

He kept a few inches between them as to give her room to adjust if she needed to. He could watch her sleep for the rest of the night but given that his top priority was the captive tied to a tree across from them it wouldn’t be such a wise idea.

Not to mention that Clarke wouldn’t appreciate him gawking at her the entire time that she slept.

Before the sun reached the horizon was when he awoke her. Roan softly nudged her shoulder and her eyes shot open. Lifting her head from the ground; dazed as if she had awoke from kind of dream or nightmare that she was trapped in. If Roan had any indication it was most likely the latter.

“What?” she yawned before stretching. “It’s morning?”

“Yes,” he answered. “Time to pack up and go.”

In silence they gathered their packs, adjusted the rope as to take their captive across the trails on foot, and set out. With this development, Roan had found an excuse to get that horse.

Though whatever resistance the captive would put up with, they wouldn’t be in such a rush.

In fact, she did show resistance when the three of them reached the border to Woods Clan territory. She let out what could be a strangled cry of distress and stomped on his foot.

He grits his teeth as he tightened his grip on the rope. “Oh, yes you are going,” he told her. “Don’t think I am counting you out.”

He pulled the rope forward and dragged her past the border.

“In any case, if there is a boogeyman that might come to get you, it is gone,” Clarke spat to her. “But death by the Mountain Men isn’t the justice your clan want for your crimes.”

 

* * *

 

Her leg was throbbing with each step she took as they guided the fugitive through _Trikru_ territory yet her ability to walk wasn’t hindered from yesterday’s injury. Clarke couldn’t walk as fast as she did yesterday but it was better than not being able to walk.

They entered the part of the southern part of _Trikru_ territory, as Clarke speculated. She had never really been at this part. It really spoke for itself since there were cotton fields a few yards away from them. She had never seen cotton in the area where they landed.

Her mother would be scolding her for maneuvering with a wounded leg, that she needed to rest. Clarke remembered holding Octavia back from that rescue mission for Jasper as her leg was still healing after that bite from the mutated water snake when Octavia impulsively took a dip the day they landed.

 _If the Grounders can walk around with healing injuries, the same could be said for me_ , she thought to herself as they continued the trek through what she could assume were the back roads of _Trikru_ territory, as they have never have seen many people for miles. Save for the traveling wagons containing sacks of cotton or finds from a harvest hunt.

They stopped for lunch under a canopy of trees and heated the remains of last night’s catches before eating. Due to Roan’s reasoning that they couldn’t waste any energy before nightfall. He didn’t say it but it was most likely due to her leg injury. That he didn’t want her to put too much exertion on it.

A wounded leg was different then a wounded arm, right?

When they were ready to set out again, their captive pulled on the rope with her hands. Nearly pulling Roan forward to the ground. If Roan hadn’t pulled on his end of the rope, causing her to fall to the ground, she would have gotten away.

For extra measure, Clarke took some extra rope from his pack to loosely bind her ankles together. That way she could move but not be able to run quick enough if the advantage presented itself to her.

When she departed from the gates of Camp Jaha, Clarke never thought that she would help with luring criminals and keeping them contained. As they say, hindsight isn’t always 20/20.

When they camped out for the night, they ate in silence before she had fallen asleep a few inches from him. Lying awake for a few minutes, she pondered telling him a little bit of it. Not the full magnitude but the idea that she and two of her friends killed some people to save her family and friends. Though three hundred people could hardly qualify as some people. With minimal information about what she did, it could give way for him to give an idea about why he was banished without him telling the whole story himself.

He was going to find out anyway one of these days, no matter how hard she would try to push it back and avoid it. There will come the day where he will connect the dots and realize that she was the perpetual leader of her people. Clarke hoped it would come from her end and that he wouldn’t find out through some other way.

Though telling him a minimized account would have to wait as she didn’t trust their captive with information.

It was early morning when they separated at their previous rendezvous point.

 

* * *

 

“ _Refusing to take any credit for the Mountain’s fall is a dangerous move, Commander_ ,” said Titus that morning as Lexa seated herself in her throne. “ _Politically speaking, it would only weaken you_.”

Lexa crossed her legs together as she glared at him. The nerve of him. Didn’t he say that good leaders never took credit for what other leaders have done? She argued, “ _A good leader does not take credit for what other leaders have done. That was something that you taught me and my fellow novitiates before the Conclave after Huron’s fall and you are advising me to go against it?_ ”

He nodded in understanding. “ _Yes, Commander_ ,” he confirmed. “ _However, that was before you declared that ceasefire with Ice Nation after the delivery of Costia’s head. Therefore inviting Ice Nation to your table against my wishes_.”

“ _Inviting them to join the Coalition was something that Bekka Pramheda would have wanted_ ,” Lexa argued. “ _They were originally part of the Original Coalition had not King William, their first monarch, had a fallout with her_.”

“ _They only joined because you demanded that Queen Nia would banish one of her children in return_ ,” he pointed out. “ _The Queen may be planning her revenge as we speak and it doesn’t help that rumors about the Mountain’s fall is spreading around the Coalition_.”

“ _All they know is that the Mountain fell and if they don’t know why, it won’t be troublesome_ ,” she forcefully put forth. “ _If it’s just Ice Nation that will cause problems, there will be no need to worry about upheavals_.”

Lexa desired for Titus to drop the subject. There was already enough on her mind. Most recently the complaint from the Ice Nation Ambassador regarding _Skaikru_ Marauders that have been committing a string of illegal hunting and unprovoked killings of _Azgeda_ civilians and warriors alike. She knew they would want justice but was tempted to notify the _Skaikru_ settlement within _Trigeda_ that there were others up north past the _Trikru_ border. _Markus kom Skaikru_ had expressed desire to reunite with the rest of his people who departed in the other pieces of their Space Castle, last she knew.

There was no way she could honor the wishes of both clans. If she allowed _Azgeda_ to have their way with this group, _Skaikru_ would see her as a corrupt tyrant who was only concerned with the wellbeing of the original twelve clans. If she allowed the group to live and begin their exodus to rejoin the others in _Trigeda_ , _Azgeda_ would think she was bending over backwards to their enemies, though _Skaikru_ weren’t such to her as of now.

Titus shook his head. “ _You are not grasping the situation, Commander_ ,” he said. “ _Your clan of origin knows that the Sky People’s leader has gone AWOL after the Mountain’s fall. It will not be long for all the clans to put two and two together. Speaking of Ice Nation, Ambassador Ivan has been loudly vocalizing your alleged incompetence of the Mountain. That you left our former enemies to handle the problem rather than by your hand_.”

“ _Really_?” she asked. He was bound to be a problem when word would spread about the Mountain. It was predictable.

“ _Polis scouts thought they saw him speaking with the Ambassadors from Blue Cliff and Broadleaf Clans respectively_ ,” he continued.

Lexa bit her lip. Of course they would go for the clans that the Woods Clan had stronger ties to first. It would make sense. She pondered her next moves. Lexa could make an example out of him. Kill him to reduce the threat of being undermined but it was too early to decide if he was lobbying for support. Lexa would have to wait. Risky as it was, best to delay Queen Nia’s wrath. For it was unavoidable. No matter what she did, Nia would find a way to exploit it.

“ _Have guards keep watch on him_ ,” she ordered. “ _Anything he does will be reported to me_.”

Titus opened his mouth to protest when the doors opened. Revealing Wight, one of her bodyguards. “ _Constituents from the Plain Riders are here_ ,” he answered. “ _One of them said it’s urgent_.”

“ _Send them in_ ,” she ordered. It could be about that dry spell they were having. The Ambassador stressed how not enough crops were growing and how some farmers had to find other resourceful ways of growing food. She turned to Titus. “ _This conversation has concluded. I suggest you go to the Novitiates and begin today’s oral lesson. Tell them that I will be there shortly_.”

 

* * *

 

“Ran across a bandit?” the daughter of the post trader – or Niylah, she introduced herself as – asked as she handled the rabbit furs that Clarke offered her for some goods.

“Yeah,” Clarke answered, continuing the lie. “I was just lucky I was able to fight him off.”

“You are lucky that you are alive,” Niylah stated. “Half the time, people don’t survive a encounter with them.” She inspected the rabbit furs that were lying in front of her. “What do you want for these?”

There was enough food in her bag and they had plenty altogether. Clarke’s eyes lingered around the trading room. There were things like books, clothing, other sorts of trinkets in boxes, various hunting weapons…

She could use her own bow and arrow. It would get too tiresome to be exchanging one set to take turns taking a shot when it came to hunting wild game.

Clarke approached a group of archery sets and took one. The wooden bow designed in a recurve and the feathered arrows. Different from Roan’s archery set that she was currently sporting.

“This set of a bow and quiver of arrows,” she said as she picked it up and approached the counter.

Niylah cocked her head to the side as she raised her eyebrow. “Don’t you have one strapped around your torso?” she inquired incredulously.

“A friend had lent it to me,” she lied. At the moment, Roan wasn’t quite a friend. Friends with Benefits was the correct term. The benefits being living apart from her people, hunting, luring fugitives, and sex. Though the sharing of information and secrets might change all that. “I decided that it’s convenient to have my own set.”

She nodded in understanding. “I am sure your friend will appreciate that gesture,” she answered as the door opened. Clarke quickly turned to see who it was, intentionally planning to turn her face away from her new customers when she sees that it’s a pair of people she doesn’t recognize. Most likely traveling merchants as they didn’t seem to have the chains and metal adorned on their coats like she had seen the warriors wear.

In order to make herself less obvious, she said, “ _Mochof_.” Which was Trigedasleng for ‘thank you’, as what Roan taught her a few days ago.

Niylah nodded and said something that Clarke recognized as, “Your welcome.” As she turned her attention to the new arrivals, Clarke exited the building with her an archery set in tow.

If she didn’t have any luck catching anything the first time, Clarke managed to catch a thing or two. Literally two squirrels. One of them looking as if it had two heads from the radiation.

Clarke had tied her two hunting catches to her bag when she thought she heard the neighing of a horse. For a moment, she had pondered to look at the source before hiding behind a tree. Only to see that the source was Roan; who was pulling a chestnut colored stallion behind him. Looked like a thoroughbred horse by the looks of it.

A horse, she thought with excitement before running towards him. A horse. He actually…she didn’t think he would…

“It’s real,” he tells her, smiling in amusement. For her reaction must have been priceless. “There were three that they offered in return for catching the fugitive. Thought I would choose wisely.”

Clarke carefully stepped towards the horse. During those hours of reading in the Ark, among the things she read were how to approach horses. You always had to approach them from the left. Softly and quietly. She held out her hand, allowing the horse to sniff her. If the horse was familiar with her scent, the more receptive the horse would be.

The horse lowered its head. Allowing Clarke to stroke it’s snout. So majestic, so beautiful, so…

It would have been considered an impulsive decision. Dangerous even. Dangerous and foolish, as Clarke would normally be on guard. Though, nothing stopped the urge to launch herself at him. Wrapping her arms around his torso.

When she first hugged Bellamy, she remembered the brief hesitation before reciprocating with enthusiasm. As that was something he never would have expected. With Roan, though she could feel him stiffen. Like this gesture was not unexpected from just her but from anyone else as well. Slowly, she felt his arms wrap around hers to reciprocate before tightening his grip.

As if she was the first person he had hugged in five years.


	9. Chapter Nine

It had been a while since he had someone hug him. If five years could be considered as such. Time passes fast when one ages, they say, though those years dragged on as if they were decades. Five years since he had someone throw their arms around his body in enthusiasm.

            He had expected a _thank you_ but not something of this gesture. Least of all from a girl that he only knew for nearly two weeks (though that didn’t seem to stop him from sleeping with her and likewise with her). As thrown off as he was, he returned the gesture.

            For a thing such as this, that wasn’t at least sexual in nature, was something that he was starved of for five years. It had felt good.

            With the new horse in tow (Clarke didn’t seem to struggle mounting on the mare, like she had done so before after descending to the ground), they traveled back to Blue Cliff territory. Made the usual overnight stop at some building before continuing their way back to the cabin the next day.

            After dinner, they both heated some water. Placed the large metal tub in the bedroom before starting to disrobe.

            In other circumstances, they normally would have bathed separately from each other. To give the other privacy as they cleaned themselves. Since they literally have seen each other naked twice, Roan didn’t see a point in bathing privately. And it seemed that neither did she see to see any point either.

            Clarke kept her hair wrapped in cloth as she bathed. As to keep it from getting wet. Like she was afraid her berry dye job would come off. Your hair was important as your body when it came to keeping clean from what he learned.

            It wouldn’t help any if he pulled it off her hair without her permission.

            Both of them scrubbed their bodies as they sat in the warm water. Though when it came to their backs, they had to let the other clean it. He scrubbed her back first. Scrubbing hard enough to remove any dirt and dead skin that was there. Though not to hard that it would bruise.

            Then it was her turn. Though he noticed that she did it with more care and caution then he did with her. Like she didn’t want to cut open the scars on his back. Her movements were slow as she carefully rinsed and scrubbed his bare skin. Almost like she was being analytical in her approach as well. As he wouldn’t be feeling one of her wet fingers ghost over the curved scars on one of his shoulder blades.

            He expected her to ask some sort of question. How and why he got them. Though he felt her continue washing his back without a word. Though that spared another question, it was like she felt it was related to another thing that he didn’t disclose.

            If she thought that, then Clarke was right. For the scars on his back mark him as a warrior of royal background. Each warrior received them upon initiation into adulthood.

            In silence, they dried themselves after stepping out of the lukewarm bath water. Though getting back into their clothes would be pointless after stripping of them. After having dumped the water, he pulled the cloth from her head. Allowing her hair to fall to her shoulders. A gesture that she didn’t protest to. He pushed her hair from her left shoulder and nuzzled his nose into her neck.

            Though he initiated it, this time, he allowed her to sit on top of him. Lying on his back as she rode him. From his recollection, he remembered hearing some male members from the Royal Guard express distaste at a girl topping them during sex. That it took away whatever domination they had during the act.

            A belief that made him scoff. Wasn’t sex something that two parties were both equally involved in? It shouldn’t be unusual for women to want to top the men during sex. In fact, Moira preferred to top him during the three years he slept with her.

            Fast forward a half hour, both were lying on their back. Catching their breath as they pulled the furs and blankets over their naked bodies. Clarke pulled herself closer to him. Closer until their skin touched and her head was nestling against his shoulder. As if any distance between them was an unfavorable option.

            There was nothing wrong with seeking some closeness. They could very well begin to cuddle next to each other at night without the trappings of sex on some nights.

 

* * *

 

            Dozing off again would be considered a mistake, for the last time she slept she was plagued by that same image that she was met with in the Mount Weather Mess Hall. Though the warmth of his body and feeling his chest move from his steady breathing was enough to comfort her.

            Enough to help her lull into sleep. For feeling his fingers on her arm was assurance that she wasn’t alone.

            First she was contently slipping into periods of sleep and being awake. Though hearing Roan breath next to her was a factor in lulling her deeply into her slumber. Deep enough for her to succumb to REM sleep.

            At one point, Clarke found herself blinking her eyes open and saw nighttime sky replacing the roof of the bedroom. Cold snow replacing the furs and warm sheets of Roan’s bed. Her heart was pounding in her chest as Clarke sat up. Frantic breathing echoing as she looked at herself. Wearing the clothes she wore that fateful night, with her hair the pale blonde shade it naturally was. Her eyes finally turned to the door bearing the words _Mount Weather Complex_ etched on the arch above it.

            She could feel her skin crawl as she backed away before standing straight up. How she got here was beyond her wildest comprehension though the simple fact that she was alone in a place where the ghosts of the dead roamed was enough to cause the hair on the back of her neck to rise.

            _I need to get out of here_ , was her first thought as she turned her foot to run. Though as she started to do so, an arm, blistered red from the radiation, broke through from the snow; clasping it around her ankle in a vice grip.

            Clarke gasped. Trying to pry the hand from her ankle with little success. As if in response, another radiation burned hand rose from the depths of snow to seize her wrist.

            “Clarke,” they say in a tone that chilled her blood.

            “No, please,” she begged as she fought against those that died by her hand. Tears coming as she was dragged into the snow as more burned hands joined to pull her down. “I didn’t plan for any of it to happen.”

            “Clarke,” they repeat as her torso had sunk into the ground. As if the earth beneath the snow was nothing but gelatin. Any struggles she made were fruitless and as one arm wrapped itself around her neck, she resigned to the fact that they would kill her in vengeance for her killing them.

            She allowed them to pull her head under the snow.

            “Clarke,” she heard again. Though instead of the voice of Mount Weather’s dead, it was him. That it caused her to jolt awake. Her sight was smeared with tears that she had to wipe her eyes to see that she was back in the cabin. Back in his bed and with that realization turned to see Roan looking at her with concern.

            “Do you want me to give you some milk?” he asked her.

            Judging by his question and the tone, he knew that whatever her nightmare was must have been horrific. Like he thought that questions such as “Are you okay” or phrases “It was only a nightmare” were inappropriate. It was a question she didn’t want to say no to either.

            “Yes,” she rasped and she watched as he left the bed. Lighting one of the candles in the next room. Watching as he didn’t waste his time retrieving a jug of milk before pouring it in a glass.

            She thanked him as he handed it to her. Tipping the cup to her lips. She had only began drinking milk for dinner and once to soothe her after meeting him. Before she met him, she had milk once. It was at Anya’s house during lunch before Mount Weather. How she remembered how rich and creamy it tasted. How better it tasted compared to the disgusting powder that they had back on the Ark. She remembered thinking _this is how real milk is supposed to taste_. Judging by his familiarity with giving milk to someone in distress, it was as if he had done this before.

            Though the practice of giving a distressed person something to drink goes way back even before her time.

            She set the cup on the crate and lay back down. Pulling the covers over her torso. It would be difficult to go back to sleep, though she didn’t want to ask Roan for anything more that could comfort her. She didn’t want to take him for granted.

            Clarke was dimly aware of him getting back in bed. Wrapping his arm around her shoulder and she responded by laying her head against his bare chest.

            “It’s going to be hard for you to get back to sleep,” he vocalized. “One never does after nightmares.”

            “Do you get them?” she thought to ask.

            He hesitated before answering. “They don’t come in frequently like they used to,” he answered. After what seemed like careful consideration, he continued, “My father would sing me and my sister to sleep back when we were younger before his death.”

            His father would sing to him, he said. That would make sense since he was basically without his mother. Her own father would tell her a story when she was restless as a young child. Just thinking about her father was enough to bring back the tears.

            “I could share it with you,” he offered. “See if that helps.”

            She was going to refuse. That he didn’t have to, though a part of her craved some comfort. Even if related to another culture that wasn’t her own. “I would like to hear it,” she rasped.

            “He taught me and my sister to remember it as we could use it with our other two siblings when he was gone,” he answered. “I could sing it in English if you –”

            “No, don’t,” she interrupted. “At this point, it doesn’t matter.”

            He hesitated before he starts. It wasn’t perfect, necessarily. Though he had managed to sing the words as if how they were originally intended. Even if the gentle tone conflicted with the husky and rough edge of his voice.

            Even when she didn’t understand half of the words that were being said; even when she barely knew the origin of the song he was singing, sleep felt too difficult to resist for Clarke. As her eyes were getting heavier by the minute.

            It didn’t take long for her to succumb deeply into sleep again.

 

* * *

 

            Murphy carefully wrapped his fingers with the bandages he found in a room of the bunker. He had tried unsuccessfully for days now to find a way to get that door open. Ranging from prying it with his fingers to using banging large objects against it. None of which worked and resulted in the abuse of his hands. It would have been nice had Jaha been here to help.

            Jaha. Murphy couldn’t help but snort. For all he knew, Jaha probably left him here to die while looking for some City of Light. He wouldn’t doubt that it was all a myth concocted by the Grounders to take advantage of the sick, deformed, and injured among them. Murphy wouldn’t put it past them as they reverted back to the days without technology. They weren’t stupid either given that one of their tactics was biological warfare to weaken the camp.

            Jaha could die trying to find it for all he cared.

            He had finished taking care of his injured hands and turned to the pantry that he found earlier. One with boxes of three servings of food marked with the number of days on them. They had to be one of those prepper meals that people (probably doomsday preppers) stocked up on to prepare for a disaster.

People thought that they were crazy but in the end the doomsday preppers were the ones who had the brains to prepare for a cataclysmic event of some sort. Perhaps the Grounders descended from them as they were known to live off the grid. Given that most American doomsday preppers were very pro-gun, something had to have happened for them to denounce guns.

Murphy popped open a box marked _day one_ and randomly picked out a box that had to be stroganoff. He could read the instructions but he could care less. Everyone knows you add water when preparing dried food.

Some information that he learned in Earth Skills and he purposely made it seem he wasn’t listening as to agitate Pike.

After he ate, Murphy looked around the living room for something to keep his sanity with. There was no telling that he was going to be here until he died and ran out of food. He fumbled with the remote, which took him to a folder labeled _home media_. While there was the entry labeled 5/12/2052, there were others before it that went back all the way to 2/10/2047.

 _I wonder_ , he thought. If there was anything he learned from personal experience, something didn’t happen without anything happening beforehand. Taking the risk even if he didn’t like it, he turned to the video labeled 10/20/2051…

 

* * *

 

Clarke woke up to find the other side of the bed vacant, though she could hear him moving around in the kitchen making breakfast. Scrambled eggs and potatoes from the aroma of it.

She fumbled around; snagging her clothes and pulling them on.

Passing into the living and dining area, Roan didn’t seem to notice her until she pulled up one of the chairs to sit. He looked back for a moment, still stirring the contents on the pan, before turning back to his task. “Did that help you fall asleep, Snowflake?” he asked.

Knowing full well that he was referring to that lullaby he sang last night, Clarke nodded. “Yes,” she answered. “It pulled me back into a deep sleep.”

She thought he saw his lips curl into a smile. “That is the intended outcome,” he answered. “One of Ice Nation’s oldest lullabies. Passed down from generations.”

That wasn’t too surprising, as they had their own stories and songs originated from the Ark. Clarke watched him as he continued with breakfast. She could tell him. At least not all of it yet.

At least some details to provide an understanding of her nightmares. She sat there in silence as he finished cooking breakfast and both plates were in front of them was when she began to talk. “Roan,” she began. “There are some things I need to tell you.”

He looked up from his plate, his blue eyes lit up with interest. “I am listening,” he encouraged as he speared his sausage with his fork.

“I am not telling you everything yet but I am giving some details as to give you a basic understanding,” she premised. “Why I have the nightmares that I have.”

He furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head in response though he uttered no protest. Which indicated that there was no pressure from him to release the whole magnitude of events.

She took a deep breath. “Some of my friends and I,” she started, “we killed a group of people a little over a week ago _.” An entire civilization_ _worth_ , she thought to herself as she remembered thinking about the ramifications of her decision when it came time to pull that lever.

His eyes slightly widened though it wasn’t out of surprise. He shouldn’t be considering the Ring of Fire a month ago.

“Those people were killing our family and friends,” she rasped. “We had to kill them. There was no other choice.”

She buried her face in her hands and let the sobs come. She had left it open to his interpretation. Clarke didn’t give any indication that it was an entire civilization of three hundred people. What those people were actually doing to force her and her friends to make that choice. Though Clarke feared that Roan would ask about the identity of this group. About the actual magnitude of events earlier than planned.

Though depending his range of perception, it shouldn’t come to have a surprise that he might piece the dots together early. However, given that he gets limited information from time to time, that might not be the case.

After a moment’s hesitation, he answered, “That is why you left home? Because you were burdened with guilt?”

 _Damn Roan and his perceptiveness_ , she thought as she looked up at him. “Why do you have to be so perceptive?” she demanded.

“It just makes sense,” he answered. “You shouldn’t feel any guilt for trying to save your family. You killed people, yes, but from what I’m getting, your friends would have died had you not done something.”

Her first impulse was to correct him. That innocent people were killed as well when she and two of her friends made that decision to irradiate Level 5. Though that would have led it to a place in a conversation where she wanted to avoid.

“This is a new concept for you, it seems,” he continued. “If I could tell you one thing, the human race has always done things to ensure survival. It has been like that. Something that your older peers should understand considering the acts they did up in that Space Castle to avoid extinction or so they thought as they weren’t really the sole survivors of humanity, even if some of them bordered on idiocy.”

She was going to have to think about that one, as that was never a concept she thought of or had really crossed her mind. Though she’s surprised that it never did.

“No matter what I think, those nightmares will never go away,” she pointed out.

“No one said they will,” he answered. “It’s another part of being human. It would only be strange if you didn’t.”

That was a comforting thought.

“If you like, wanting my company in bed at night doesn’t have to always require sex,” he offered. “That doesn’t mean those nights will cease though there is nothing wrong with simply needing companionship in bed without sex.”

 

* * *

 

 _She killed them then_ , he thought as they resumed their breakfast. While she never made clear who they were and the size of it but considering the information he has heard, the Mountain Men could be the only group that she was referring to. As they would be the only group to be slaughtered without repercussions from the _Trikru_.

Now, he could very be wrong and he was only coming to the conclusion with what limited information he obtained, she did admit that she wasn’t ready to tell the whole story. And how she went about her narrative suggested that it was of a larger magnitude then she was letting out, which would explain her guilt on the matter.

One wouldn’t feel that sort of guilt if they didn’t kill civilians along with people that were harming her people.

If she wasn’t comfortable disclosing the full details, he wouldn’t push it. Nor would he give her the idea that he figured out before then. He would allow her to disclose it on her own terms.

Regarding the fact that she only gave him a basic idea of what she did without giving the major details, came the question of how he was going to proceed with how he was banished without disclosing his royal status. It was harder thought then done, though to be truthful.

It was predictable that Clarke didn’t know everything regarding why his clan joined the Coalition. There was the idea that she knew about Costia’s supposed death but there was no telling that she could only know limited information.

Though, thinking about it, it was easier for her to conceal the magnitude of her actions then it was to conceal his status while recalling his banishment without making it contrived and riddled with holes that would make her wonder what he was hiding.

“Five years ago, there was this girl,” he started. “She was my younger sister’s age. Fourteen at the most.”

Clarke turned away from her plate, her eyes slightly widening. _She has this story figured out_ , he thought as he continued. “They thought that she knew the Commander’s secrets as she was close to her and four Ice Nation scouts thought that it was rather convenient that they came across her after having crossed the border to _Trikru_ territory.”

 _Costia_ , she mouthed in response. As if she was thinking back to an earlier conversation. “What happened to her?” she asked, as though she knew the answer but was still wishing for his response.

“They tortured her for a week,” he answered, clearly remember his mother’s frustrations when hearing from the chief torturer that she refused to crack. “Stubborn, they said she was. Refused to say anything. I could say that I felt sympathy towards her. Went as far to sneak her dried fruit with what they consider a meal.”

He took a deep breath. He didn’t like to lie but he never really told anybody that Costia was alive despite the few chances that he could have to anyone wondering. Though no one would believe him if he did as his mother was clever in making it seem that she died with that head and all. “When she thought she lived past her usefulness, she decapitated her and sent her head to the Commander as a message. Hoping that it would get a response.”

He didn’t need to say the other part, as it should have been obvious to that the Commander’s response to declare a ceasefire. “So, she responded by inviting your clan to the Coalition,” she stated.

He nodded before swallowing. _Here it goes_ , he thought. _Here comes the inevitable_.

“She did but with a condition,” he said.

“There always seems to be a condition with her,” Clarke iterated. “You can’t get something unless you provide her something in return.”

“Which what could be expected of any leader if the enemy had done something,” he pointed out. “She wanted to drive a point across. Make the queen feel what she felt when she lost someone close to her, though by different means.” He inhaled before slowly exhaling. “In order for her to join the Coalition, she would have to banish one of her offspring and that person wasn’t allowed to step foot into their clan’s territory for ten years.” He waits another beat, taking in her furrowed eyebrows of confusion.

“That offspring was me,” he revealed.

 

* * *

 

“Someone kill me now,” Raven heard Octavia mutter as she slid in a seat next to her at the mess hall.

“What has you under duress?” she asked, raising her eyebrow incredulously.

Octavia gestured in front of her and Raven looked to see Bellamy talking with Gina Martin.

“Gina Martin from Factory Station?” Raven asked in recognition. Raven crossed paths with her quite a few times back on the Ark. Not enough times to consider her a friend. If Raven heard correctly, she was among the few that landed on the ground in Mecha Station.

“Bellamy said that she was as well,” Octavia replied. “I don’t know her that well, but I guess one doesn’t when I had to hide in the floor of my compartment for the first sixteen years of my life.”

Raven chided herself under her breath. She should have known better then to have Octavia confirm the identity of Bellamy’s companion. As Octavia never socialized with anyone but her brother and mother in her life. She couldn’t blame the Blake siblings for being resentful towards the Chancellor at the time.

(Thinking about it, locking somebody up just for existing was the stupidest thing their government came up with. At least the Grounders hadn’t reached that level of stupidity as far as she knew).

“Still immersed in that research project of yours?” Octavia asked Wells, who was seated at Raven’s right. Wells had consumed some of his time reading those binders and folders in the past week and couple of days.

“With all the experiments they did with Lincoln, I’m not surprised that they did other things,” Wells answered, turning a paper in a folder titled “Operation Black Heart”. “Apparently they performed other experiments too. Though I’m planning to visit Anya so she could something.”

“Explain what?” asked Raven, raising her eyebrow.

“Why some of the Grounder population has black blood,” he explained. “Mount Weather performed a series of experiments on seven individuals with black blood.”

Raven’s first instinct was to laugh and vocalize skepticism, though she conceded she knew better. Earth was a death planet where the radiation had an effect on some living organisms and in some places, she heard, climate. If a two headed deer was possible then black blood shouldn’t be a farfetched idea.

“Let me see,” Raven demanded, reaching her arm.

Wells gave the folder to her and at the first image she saw, Raven felt like bringing her lunch back up. As there was some images so graphic that she didn’t want to describe them.

The leaders of Mount Weather definitely were not human. They were merely murderous demons that only appeared human.

 

* * *

 

Clarke wasn’t bluffing when she said she was going outside to think after Roan’s revelation a short time ago. It would have been considered a stupid decision to take a horse as well as she didn’t know her way around Blue Cliff territory. Stupid as she could cross the border accidentally or go far away that he would be unable to track her for a while.

Though the latter was most likely the point. Clarke was hoping that Roan was smart enough to not bother to find her. She needed to be alone to process the information he had given her.

After sometime on horseback, Clarke called the mare to a stop. She dismounted and led the horse to a tree. Tying her to it before sitting down against the trunk. Opening her pack and pouring some dried fruit into her palm.

 _That offspring was me_ , his words echoed as she ate a piece of dried strawberry.

A prince. He was literally a prince. Prince never quite fit him when she first met him but then again, a radioactive death planet wouldn’t evoke the same standards as the time before the Nuclear Apocalypse.

Clarke thought that banished princes were something found in fables that she had read. However, looking at him when he revealed his status as for the circumstances of his banishment, he wasn’t bluffing. Though a piece of her wish he was bluffing.

She knew he was hiding something and that he was avoiding disclosing a certain piece of information when talking about his childhood. For a moment, Clarke was even angry. Angry that he chose to hide this piece of him until now.

 _Why? Why not reveal that you had royal baggage when we met?_ She thought. Why lie about his mother being dead? If she was going to find out, why avoid that particular aspect?

 _You won’t tell him about the full magnitude of what you did_ , one part her mind chided her. _Why does that make any difference?_

 _It does_ , argued another part of her mind, though the latter might disagree.

She didn’t tell him that the Grounder Coalition saw her as their sole leader either, so naturally she shouldn’t have been furious with him for his secrets. Yet he told her he was a prince before she was ready to fully disclose about Mount Weather.

And she thought he made the impression that he wanted to be even.

Though, coming to think of it, maybe dodging around that fact would have been harder for him to avoid then it had for her to hide about the fact regarding Mount Weather. Maybe he thought it would have made things contrived and full of holes that it would have made her more suspicious.

 _He said his mother was dead and that his father died in battle_ , her mind pointed out.

Maybe his mother wasn’t literally dead. Perhaps it was that his mother was dead just to him. It would say as much given the disdain that was in his tone when he spoke of her. As for the bit with his father, Clarke remembered reading about the stories where kings had led their warriors into battle. It wouldn’t be farfetched to assume that Roan’s father was such a king.

Would make sense if Roan said the healers tried everything they could to save him.

Would make sense if his youngest sibling was said to be reserved, as nobody else would be given that choice if they were related to warriors.

Imagine having everything that your heart desires, being waited on hand and foot, though your siblings are the only things that are valuable to you. Then one day, your own mother decides to banish you when the Commander orders her to banish one of her own if the clan were to join the Coalition. Being forced to leave your family and friends and having to catch criminals for a living for ten years. Not being allowed to step foot into your home for those years.

Roan was ten years older than her. He must have been twenty-three at that time when Clarke herself was only thirteen. That meant he would return home at thirty-three.

Did he hate Lexa or his mother? It would be easier to hate Lexa, for she was the one who made that condition. Though by the way he said it, Lexa didn’t specify who his mother should banish. That she gave her a choice and as a result the Ice Nation Queen chose one of her sons.

She could wait until night to go back. Go back to the cabin and ask him some questions having the information now being processed in her mind. However, even if she knew Roan for a week and a few days, he would definitely wait for her to come back until nightfall before setting out to try and find her.

He was an older sibling after all.

It was better to return now then wait, she conceded. Clarke was ready to untie her horse from a tree when she heard an arrow being released from its bowstring. The tip piercing itself into her calf.

She gritted her teeth as the searing pain began to spread through her leg though that didn’t stop her from seeing that her assailant was running towards her. His face covered with a cloth as he was about to remove another arrow.

Heart pounding, she dodged another arrow and hastily retrieved one of her arrows. Shooting him in one of his eyes. Her attacker collapsed and Clarke noticed an arrow piercing his neck.

She looked up to see another figure yards away, lowering her crossbow.

 

 


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep in mind that we barely scratched the surface of Roan before 4x10

Clarke tensed up as the woman approached her. Ignoring the grating pain in her leg. She lowered her crossbow but that didn’t mean Clarke’s suspicions were wavered. Did she actually mean to kill that guy as well to get to her without competition? It was a possibility.

            As the woman walked closer to her, did Clarke get a good look at her. Light brown skin, chestnut brown hair, and dark brown eyes. Most likely of Latina descent like Raven. Probably around Bellamy’s and Roan’s age. Conventionally attractive as well.

            She didn’t drop the caution in her posture as the stranger squatted down and turned the corpse to his back. Yanking the cloth from his mouth. Nobody that Clarke knew, which relieved her.

She said something and Clarke could only register the words being _arrow_ and _yours_. “Sorry, but my Trigedasleng is limited,” she apologized and as those words left her mouth, Clarke wanted to shoot herself in the arrow. _Way to go, Clarke_ , she thought. _Might as well die today_.

Instead of some form of hostility, the woman laughed. Something that set Clarke off guard. “So you must be one of those people that fell from the sky,” she deduced. “It’s alright. No hard feelings. Did that guy do a number on your calf?”

“Well, it should be obvious,” Clarke stated.

“Well, let me get a fire going so I could cauterize it right after I pull it out,” she offered.

“Okay,” Clarke said, still baffled by this Grounder’s lack of wary response. Mostly, first encounters with Grounders were met with hostility and in Roan’s case, wariness and caution when he first met her. This Grounder on the other hand, didn’t seem perturbed about Clarke being _Skaikru_.

It didn’t take long for her new companion to gather twigs to make a fire. She didn’t give warning when removing the arrow either. Not that it surprised her.

“Let me bandage it,” Clarke insisted after her wound was cauterized. There was nothing wrong with getting help. She just didn’t want to have another person do it all. She was perfectly capable of bandaging her own wound.

 _You let Roan bandage your wound a few days ago_ , she thought. Though Clarke rationalized that it was a completely different circumstance then this one.

“I was on this son of a bitch’s trail when he seemed to make you as his target,” said the woman. “Seems like your arrow pulled the plug on him.”

“Did he attack you before or were you acting on an assignment for a bounty?” Clarke asked her, knowing full well that it could be the latter. Especially since she was around a bounty hunter for days now.

“The latter,” she answered with a smile as she drew out a sword from a sheath attached to her back. “I was thinking about maybe asking an old friend of mine for help on tracking him since he lives about an hour or two away from here on foot. Now, I don’t need to.”

The woman goes over to the corpse of her target. Clarke never asked Roan what happens if a fugitive is found dead. Though decapitation wasn’t something that she crossed out of her mind. For clothing articles might mean nothing.

As for this old friend. It might be convenient to assume that it was Roan she was referring to as he was the only bounty hunter Clarke knew that resided in Blue Cliff territory. It wouldn’t hurt to ask.

“There is this one bounty hunter that I have known over a week,” Clarke said as the person began cutting around the man’s neck. “He goes by Roan. Are you referring to him by any chance?”

The bounty hunter looked up, her blade still in the dead man’s neck. Slowly, her lips curl into a small smirk. “Looks like this is a small world after all,” she surmised. She resumed her task and it was a matter of moments before the guy’s head was completely removed from his body.

“We should stop by and say hello,” she continued, speaking as if Clarke was an old friend of hers. Though they knew each other for a few minutes. “He might like the surprise. Though I only see him a few times in Polis if I happen to spot him.”

“We might as well,” Clarke sighed, standing up to untie the horse. “Best leave now because he might go looking for me after nightfall.”

Her new companion snorted. “That is the brother bear in his blood,” she answered. “As helpful as it is, it’s rather annoying sometimes.”

“Tell me about it,” Clarke replied.

“To make things easier, I’m Moira,” she introduced, holding out her hand.

“Clarke,” she greeted, taking the person’s hand.

Moira curled her lips in a smile as their hands withdrew from each other. Mounting on the horse was slightly difficult with the other injured leg though she was able to in the end.

“Care to tell me how you came across Roan?” Moira asked as they began traveling away the side of the tree. The bag containing the man’s head slung over her shoulder as she walked.

“I encountered him before a blizzard,” Clarke answered. “We both rode it out in a cave and I followed him to his location the next morning.”

Clarke didn’t want to tell a stranger that she left her people and that Roan insisted on her coming with him. That would only venture into unwanted territory. “He has been good company,” Clarke continued.

“I was wondering when he might break out of that reclusive phase,” Moira vocalized. “Should do him good. I first met him after he was first banished. Witnessed him rough up another bounty hunter in a Polis tavern.”

“I wonder what led up to that,” Clarke pondered. It shouldn’t be hard, though she wasn’t there to actually know for sure. Though most likely he only had the clothes on his back, a bag of supplies, and a weapon.

“Idiot said that he might be too soft for bounty hunting,” Moira vocalized. “That there was no way a pampered prince would survive without being waited on hand and foot.”

That reminded Clarke all too well about her first week on the ground. With Bellamy saying, “Let’s have the privileged work for a change,” and that she didn’t have the guts to make hard decisions involving life and death when Jasper was dying from his wounds. Boy, did she prove Bellamy wrong when she mercy killed Atom when Bellamy wasn’t able to after the Acid Fog.

“That probably was enough to piss him off,” Clarke reckoned. “I know I would be pissed off as well.”

“For a moment it seemed like he was going to walk away,” Moira continued with a nod. “The other guy turned out in pretty bad shape. Roan only got a bloody nose from the altercation. He demanded, _is this soft to you?_ as he did a number on him. Stupid bastard couldn’t walk for a week.”

Though it would be considered unpleasant that Roan beat up a man to the point where he couldn’t walk for a week, Clarke couldn’t help but snicker. _Is this soft to you_? If she were able to control time, she would be able to see that sight for herself.

Though there were many things that she would do if she did control time. Change some things that happened.

Moira continued to ramble on as they continued to travel to Roan’s residence. Though Clarke would think that it would be more accurate to coin it her and Roan’s residence, since she has been under the same roof with him for days now and could be staying with him far longer than planned.

“Roan told me that bounty hunters were made up of either clan cast outs or those born in Polis,” Clarke pointed out. “It might be too soon to ask but are you the former or the latter?”

Moira drew a long sigh. “The former, much like Roan,” she answered. “The only difference between us is that he never had his entire family banished along with him like me.”

“Wait, what?” Clarke asked, barely digesting what was just said.

“My father was accused of inciting an insurrection against the leader of our farming village within Plain Riders,” she disclosed. She snorted before continuing. “The unit leader was shady as it was, never giving us a share of the labor. My family was told to leave if we didn’t want to hand my father over.”

“That’s horrible,” Clarke mused.

“It’s better than that village in my clan of origin,” she countered. “Both my parents are carpenters in Polis and I got drafted into bounty hunting because one died in a botched attempt to catch a criminal.”

“Well, Lexa has got to maintain her bounty hunter population one way or another,” Clarke resentfully put forth.

“That was a year before _Leska kom Trikru_ ascended,” Moira answered. “In fact, it was within the last year of Commander _Huron kom Podakru_ ’s reign before his assassination. Personally, I’m surprised that she’s ruled for five years. Most Commanders make it at three years. The longest was the first one, if I’m heard correctly.”

Before? Didn’t Lexa tell her that her soul will inhabit the next Commander after she died? That she will be reincarnated? Unless there was something else involved. It was possible, as she was not here long.

It was close to dusk when they reached the cabin and the first thing that Clarke saw was Roan placing a log on the chopping stump before halving the log in half with one stroke. She wondered what was going through his mind when she took off. He didn’t seem angry last time she knew.

“Holding up fine, your highness?” Moira exclaimed, amusement in her tone as she said the last two words.

He turned his head to their direction. His eyes widening in surprise. Not surprised that he thought he wouldn’t see Clarke’s new companion again. Surprised as if he never thought that those two would ever encounter each other.

Though she never expected him to rush to her. As if he was relieved by the mere sight of her.

“A walk would have been one thing,” he said as he helped her off her horse. “Taking a horse, on the other hand, is an act of impulsive idiocy. Especially regarding unfamiliar territory.”

“At least I didn’t cross the border, Roan,” Clarke pointed out as her feet touched the ground. Not wanting to reveal that she was wincing a little. Unfortunately, it was like Roan noticed, for he was eyeing the leg that she just wounded moments ago.

“Two days later and you messed up another leg,” Roan drawled. He turned to Moira. “Care to explain what happened?”

“I was tracking a bandit and was on his trail for hours,” Moira explained. “The idiot thought it would be a good idea to make this girl his target. She shot him in the eye right when I hit him in the back.”

“Hopefully you decapitated him,” Roan answered, gazing proudly at Clarke for a moment before turning back to Moira. “Whoever issued the bounty might want some proof that you caught him.”

“I already have that covered,” she answered, holding up that sack containing the head.

 

* * *

 

When he told Clarke about him being a prince, her first reaction was to snicker. Chuckling, “That can’t be true. You can’t be a literal prince.” Only dropping that demeanor when he gave a look that suggested that he was serious. “I mean, you really can’t…I don’t…” she stammered, paling as if comprehension dawned on her.

Shortly after, she left the table, saying that she was going to go out for a bit. He didn’t stop her when she departed but when he saw her mount that horse before taking off, he had half the mind to follow her. To prevent her from doing anything stupid like going past the border but decided against it. For Clarke wouldn’t like it if he went right after her.

Yet he was going to give her until dark to come back and if she didn’t, he would set out to look for her.

He decided to take out his frustrations out on pieces of wood and continued to do so until Clarke arrived back in the unexpected company of Moira. How relief washed over him at the fact that she was safe.

If it weren’t for the fact that Moira was in possession of that head, he would have invited her for dinner. Though, in a way, that spared him from any awkwardness that might ensue.

To be honest, he wasn’t in the mood for any dinner guests. For his background is what was the main topic of the evening, it seemed.

“For all the “princess” jabs that I received, I never thought that I would run into an actual prince,” she grumbled as she put healing ointment on her cauterized wound. “Turns out I’m not as privileged as they accused.”

“Depends on your definition and standards of it,” he surmised as he continued to roll the deer venison in sea salt; to preserve it for winter. They both hailed from different societies. The _Skaikru_ most likely had a different view on privilege then his people.

“True, but I didn’t have the advantage of going outside nor was I waited on hand and foot,” she said before quickly, “unless you never had the latter.”

Being waited on hand and foot. He wasn’t going to deny it. They had people to cook their food, prepare their bath water, prepare their beds for the next night, and empty their chamber pots. Though that didn’t impede him from learning how to do it himself over the five years.

“I considered myself lucky to be better off but it was a gilded cage at the same time,” he admitted. “My mother never made it easy after father died.”

Mother. The word felt like slime and poison in his mouth. Which was why he rarely, rarely used it.

There was a pause before she asked, “When you said your mother died before your father, did you mean…?”

“In a figurative sense?” he continued, turning away from his task. “Yes.” He didn’t want to discuss this with her; to virtually cut himself open and spill her guts out to her. Though, he wanted Clarke to know how getting the throne worked. For she probably already had it in her head that one automatically ascended as a King or Queen of Ice Nation after marriage.

“It was clear that she only gave birth to me to become queen,” he added resentfully. “I even heard it whispered around the palace help.”

Clarke cocked her head to the side. “Why would she need to have a child to ascend to the throne?” she inquired. “Isn’t that rather archaic?”

“One of the prerequisites to have access for the throne is if the one eligible, typically the first born, has to prove that they are able to reproduce,” he answered. “Being a first born and married isn’t considered enough. It’s to ensure that the bloodline doesn’t wither out and die.”

“You’re a first born,” she deduced. “So, you virtually were given the same expectations. Why would your mother banish you?”

He swallowed. How to explain this. “I was never her favorite to begin with,” he truthfully put forth. “I was a power piece. Practically expendable in some ways. Ironically, she heaped me with the same expectations and protection of a first born. Though it could mean that if I were to die, it was something on her terms. One time, an Earl challenged her for power and who does she pick to fight for her?”

“She chose you?” Clarke asked. Bewilderment in her tone.

Amazing how quickly she caught on. In his life, his mother selected him as the one to fight for her in a challenge to her power. Twice. The first time when he was fourteen. A fight that he won but got out barely alive. That it took him a week until he could walk straight again. The second time was this challenge that he just mentioned, two years before his banishment. He had gotten better in his skills and was only able to come out with a broken nose and bruised ribs. The other guy didn’t last a chance.

Echo vocalized the opinion that it was because the queen had faith in his skills. Though Roan knew that the truth was that his mother was too cowardly to do these fights herself.

“It wasn’t as bad as it was when I was fourteen when she first listed me as her champion for a challenge,” he brought up. “However, she was brutal enough to fight for herself. She didn’t need to hide behind another.”

It seemed Clarke was more interested in his first sentence then the rest, for she dropped the tube of ointment as her eyes widened. “She had you fight for her at fourteen?” she gasped.

It was obvious that she wasn’t used to how things were practiced down here. He had no problem being placed on battlefields as a child. That was how things were. His only problem was fighting in challenges his mother could have easily fought herself.

“We weren’t shielded like you were,” he retorted. Wrapping the deer venison with paper. “In this death planet, one has to grow up fast. You had to after a month down here.”

She paused before continuing, “But sending children into battle. That’s barbaric.”

“How is it any different from floating people into space from stupid things as just existing to wanting the populace to know about apocalyptic doom?” he demanded. “How is it any different from sending you and other delinquents such as yourself to a planet that they didn’t know at the time could support life or still be toxic to every living thing?”

She never explicitly stated that she and other prisoners were sent down to their doom. But what she told him and with the information he gathered over time before meeting her seemed to go in that direction that way when pieced together. Also, who else would _Skaikru_ send down first? Of course they will send the prisoners down first because they would be considered the expendable part of the population.

Clarke’s silence was enough to tell him that she never even thought to think about that one. Like she didn’t think those weren’t any different.

“My life wasn’t easy, to begin with,” he truthfully divulged. “Was never even carefree child’s play. Life never is, anyway.”

Clarke didn’t say more about the subject. In fact, she didn’t speak at all for the rest of the night. For she went to bed minutes earlier then he as if to avoid speaking anymore of it.

In a way, it was a blessing but her silence was worrisome.

 

* * *

 

Costia grumbled under her breath as she traveled down the corridors of the stockade with healing essentials. There was an array of healers that could be assigned with the task of tending to the wounds of this parasite but since they refused, mainly out of fear that he would somehow suck their blood, Costia was basically sought out due to her skills of tending wounds.

She was even surprised that he lasted this long, for Nicolae was immensely brutal when it came to forcing information out of prisoners. Though she knew that she herself had endured torture for a week.

She inserted the key in the padlock and loosened it from the door as she stopped at the parasite’s cell. The door creaked as it opened, despite her efforts to enter quietly. Illuminating the room with her oil lamp in hand, Costia observed that the prisoner was curled up in his threadbare blanket. His back turned to the door.

Either he was sleeping or he was pretending to be asleep. The latter wasn’t a strange tactic among prisoners.

Cautiously, Costia stepped forward. Making sure that her footsteps were inaudible. Quietly, she set down the oil lamp on the stone floor. Softly, she peeled the blanket from his body.

A hand reached out, grabbing her wrist in an iron solid grip and it was within a few seconds that she was staring at the eyes of a demon.

“What now?” he demanded. “Come to drag me into that torture chamber, savage?”

The word grated against her ears despite the irony of it. For this man literally aided in the slow annihilation of her clan. Resulting in the capture and death of her mother and various other peoples’ loved ones.

“I was going to clean your wounds,” she spat out, not concealing the disgust she had for this last surviving Mountain Man.

The man glared at her before letting go of her wrist. Prompting Costia to remove the blanket and rip open his shirt. Revealing the wounds that were bound to be infected. “Had I have it my way, I would have sliced your throat by now,” she reminded him as she took out the healing ointment. “In fact, there are others that share my viewpoint as well.”

Costia hated it here. For it reminded of the bloody and violent circumstances of why she was here. In fact, there were times that she wished that Nia would have just beheaded her and delivered her head to Lexa. In fact, the only person that kept her sanity was Echo, who Nia sent along with dozens of warriors to clamp down on the _Skaikru_ visitors. However, the only thing that united her with most of the Royal Guard was that the Mountain Man was better off dead. There was even a betting pool of how long this parasite might be useful to Queen Nia. She didn’t take part but whatever he had to offer, she wagered that he wouldn’t make it past Easter. Nia was known for killing pawns who outlived their usefulness.

She dipped her finger in the ointment and carefully rubbed it over his wounds.

There was silence between them and she was relieved as him talking would have grated her ears.

“You sort of remind me of her,” he said after a minute. “Forceful. Doesn’t care if what you do affects others.”

She ignored him as she continued her task, for Costia had no sense whom he was referring to. He only saw her this one time, so she didn’t know whether it was delirium from the pain of torture and remotely, ingestion of Jobi Nuts.

“She killed my wife, my children, my friends…” he droned on. “Without blinking an eye. She just let them burn as she watched.”

“Whoever this was, too bad she didn’t kill you as well,” Costia said as she placed bandages on his back. “For I would be doing other things.”

He was most likely referring to the Mountain’s fall. Either he was delusional to blame one person when it would be logically more people or he wasn’t. Still, she didn’t know what she would have in common in a girl that he was referring to.

Even though she wished to kill Nia the worst and slow death possible for forcing her to recreate her identity and her imprisonment, when the time comes, she wished that the queen would be at least kind enough to let her kill him when he outlived his usefulness to her.

 

* * *

 

For the first time, they slept in bed without the precursor of sex. Not that Clarke had anything against it. After all, it was something that he offered. That if company is what she desired, he wouldn’t be against nights of platonic bed sharing.

Though that didn’t stop her from trying to snuggle closely to him. She liked feeling the warmth of his body. It was comforting.

It was like the days of her youth. When she would crawl between her parents after a nightmare. For feeling their warmth would assure her that she wasn’t alone.

Though she would drift awake to watch him as he slept. She wondered what world he was trapped in when he was in his slumber. Though Clarke hoped that it wasn’t the same sort of violence that plagued her sleep.

He said that he never got nightmares often but they would come. Though Clarke didn’t want to find herself imagining such. That would be…too intimate.

As if they weren’t becoming intimate with each other already. Though he was a step ahead of her.

Clarke drifted back to sleep. Nestling her head against his shoulder and closing her eyes. After a while, it became difficult to even drift awake.

She was near a deep sleep when she thought she felt Roan jerk awake and gasping for breath. Clarke jolted awake, in time to see his back facing towards her though she can hear him take deep breaths.

How Clarke saw it, there was only one thing to do. For Roan had done so twice when she herself woke up from a nightmare.

“Let me get it for you,” she offered, throwing the blankets off of her body. Clarke had expected a word of protest. That he didn’t need her to baby him. That he could pour his own glass of milk.

Instead, she heard nothing of that sort. Taking that as a go ahead for her to give him a glass of milk, she pushed away the curtain to the main room. Clarke knew where the dairy products were kept. She opened the cabinet by the drawer and carefully took out the glass jug of milk.  

After filling his glass for a few seconds, she put back the milk and returned to the bedroom. Where Roan reached out his hand to take the glass when she offered it to him.

“ _Mochof_ ,” he thanked before tipping the glass to his lips. She went over to her side and slid under her blankets as he drank.

“What was it?” she asked him before she could stop herself. Perhaps that was too brazen to ask him, for it could be something he didn’t want to discuss. Even though she herself gave some basic information about her own recent nightmares.

He wiped his mouth with his sleeve before turning back to her. “Ever since my father died, there are times where I have to relive it,” he rasped before he sighed. “Sometimes watching the image of the arrow embedding his stomach on that battlefield. Other times, watching him die in various ways. Mainly the former.

“They are often the same nightmare over and over,” he continued as his eyes turned glassy. “Me standing in a battlefield with countless _Azgedakru_ and _Trikru_ …witnessing my father getting shot…”

He lowered his head. Gasping for a moment before wiping his eyes. “I apologize for this,” he answered. “I didn’t mean to display my vulnerability towards you.”

Clarke frowned as she bit her lip. He never complained when she was reduced to a heaping sobbing mess. In fact, he comforted her even. Why does he think it’s wrong for him to be vulnerable around her?

Her fingers reached his face and she turned it up so that his eyes met hers. “It’s okay,” she assured him. “Don’t be afraid to display your vulnerability around me. I wouldn’t judge you for it.”

For a part of the night, she held him as he wept softly into her shoulder.

 

* * *

 

“Tears are a part of our humanity,” his father explained when he was young. “Even the most strongest and toughest of warriors and men shed a tear or two.”

Among the things that his father taught him was that it was healthy to release and channel emotions. Emotions not limited to anger. Tears didn’t make a man less masculine, he said. That it didn’t make him any weak. “Don’t cry in front of your council and army, though,” his father would say. “They might not understand the context and therefore see you as soft. You can channel those emotions though, before releasing it in private when you’re around family or alone. Release it in front of people who will not judge you for it.”

Minutes after his father died after the head healer removed the arrow that mortally wounded him, Roan remembered going into his room. Huddling in a corner to weep. Only for his mother to enter his room to tell him, “Oh, stop that. You are going to be king one day. You don’t want to appear weak do you?”

His mother taught him that the only idiots and the weak let out their emotions; that the more stoic you are, the more powerful you are. That releasing emotions among family and even privately was something that would render him as weak. Something that she tried to engrain in his three siblings.

She wasn’t too kind to him but it was Nymeria, sweet and gentle Nymeria, that got the brunt of their mother’s emotional abuse due to her tendency of releasing her emotions.

After years of trying to hide his tears and five years of having to channel any sadness he felt in an effort to not appear soft, this felt good. It felt good to release his tears in front of someone who wouldn’t judge him for it.

He wouldn’t show this level of vulnerability to anybody else but her and her alone. For he would trust her with his emotions. Something that his father would have wanted.

That thought would have made him chuckle. They would be acquainted for two weeks and he already trusted her with his emotions. He literally revealed to her about his status and was basically pouring his guts to her. Which she was doing as well, though there was a detail that she was afraid to reveal.

Though he will let her tell him that detail in her own terms despite him knowing.

When morning came, Roan carefully detached himself from her. Sitting at the edge of his bed to slip on his boots before heading to the living area. Stopping for a moment to spare a look at her slumbering form.

Smiling at her before heading into the kitchen to brew their tea before breakfast.

 

* * *

 

“The Illiad?” Gina asked as she and Bellamy talked over breakfast. “Personally, I could never get into that stuff.”

“I literally grew up with Greek Mythology,” he noted to before sipping his milk. “It was one of the things my mother would read to me when I was young.”

Children’s books were nonexistent on the Ark and adults had to make due with oral storytelling and books targeted to teenagers to adults. Before Octavia came into his life, his mother traded her sugar rations for books on Greek History and Mythology to read to him. He would fall asleep hearing his mother reading to him about the Trojan War, Emperor Augustus, Prometheus, and Icarus and Daedalus.

“Perhaps I can find you something related to Greek Mythology on the next trip for supplies,” Gina offered.

Bellamy chuckled. “You don’t really have to,” he said. “I doubt I even got time for reading.”

“Perhaps you can fit some time in your schedule to pay me a visit,” she offered with a smile

At this, Bellamy could feel himself blushing like a school boy with a crush. The last time he blushed like this was at the Unity Day celebration at the Dropship camp when Clarke smiled at him after he told her “I will have my fun when the Grounders come.”

Oh, Clarke. It has been nearly two weeks since he watched her leave his side at the gates of Camp Jaha. He was familiar with the saying that no news meant good news. However, the fact that he heard nothing about her was agonizing.

It was like if she purposely took a long enough distance so she wouldn’t be found. As unlikely as it was, he hoped that she wasn’t alone. She was strong to take care of herself but at the same time he didn’t want her to isolate herself.

What took him out of his reverie was when Octavia approached the table. Her tray of food in hand. With each passing day, she was looking a little more like she was _Trikru_ then Arker. If her increasing vocabulary in their language wasn’t evident enough.

Octavia took one look at Gina before turning back to him. “Um, I guess I’ll leave you two alone,” she said before turning her back towards a table where Raven and Wells were seated.

It was clear that Octavia was embarrassed. Though he didn’t think there was nothing for her to be embarrassed about.

“Embarrassed sibling syndrome, I see,” Gina observed before continuing, “So, come and visit me sometime when you have the chance?”

Letting her know that he will wouldn’t hurt. It wouldn’t hurt either to spend an hour or two with her either.

 

* * *

 

By any indication, given how Roan described his mother, it made her own mother’s actions pale in comparison. As her mother had no intention of her father getting floated nor did she had a choice in sending her down.

Though his mother could have chosen any other person to fight for her in a challenge instead of one of her own children. Or at least offer herself to fight.

As for his uneasiness to display any emotional vulnerability –

“My father encouraged the release of tears,” Roan said to her the next morning. The day after his reveal. “Said that even the strongest cry. Though he said it was better that I would release them among people who wouldn’t judge me for it, like family. She, on the other hand, could argue differently.” He followed those words with a snort. “She said that tears and emotions were a sign of weakness. Wasn’t thrilled when she saw me crying right after I watched father die. Told me that I shouldn’t appear weak since I was going to be king one day. Well, when the Commander gave her that ultimatum, it gave her an excuse to hold on to the throne for a while.”

Clarke had personally witnessed some mothers or fathers scolding their young sons or daughters for crying. As if tears were taxing. Seems like the Grounders were like that in some ways. Though, she still couldn’t imagine telling a ten year boy who just witnessed his father die that tears were weak.

And judging by the cadence of his tone when he said the last sentence, it was clear who he held the blame towards regarding his banishment.

“You hate your mother more for your banishment then the Commander?” she asked him.

He paused, as if he was pondering how he was going to ask that one. “I hated the Commander for a few months,” he answered. “Hated her for giving the queen the excuse to discard me and not having to relinquish her power over the throne. Hated her for taking me away from my home. I was heavily restraining myself from wrapping my hands around her neck when she told me the terms of my banishment.”

Clarke could emphasize with that. For Lexa was the reason she ended up killing every single person in Mount Weather. For ending up killing people like Maya Vie, who done nothing but help them. How sometimes she fantasized about the various ways she would kill Lexa for it. Which was why she planned to avoid Polis.

Oh, how she wished she could tell him how angry Lexa made her feel regarding the Mountain. Though that was one detail that she would save for later.

“Though after a few months, I decided that hating her wasn’t the logical decision,” he continued. “There are days where I somewhat resent her for my current circumstances though it’s not as potent as it was. My true beef doesn’t lie with her. She never specified who my mother should banish but it was my mother who decided on me being the candidate. Though there are people that never understood how easy it was for her to send me away. To put it short, if it wasn’t easy for the queen, I would have hated the Commander instead of her. As if I didn’t hate her before then.”

He hated his mother for choosing him to banish and not just that but for doing it with such ease.

Though, she didn’t expect for Lexa to decide anything different.

“What would you rather have happened instead of Lexa having your mother banish you?” Clarke asked incredulously.

“It would have been better if Lexa killed her right then and there,” he answered without a beat. “In case you feel the need to ask, if I could kill her myself I would but I can’t. A portion of the people of my clan are loyal to my mother to the point that if I did, they won’t accept me as their king.”

By a portion of his people, he probably meant by those who probably didn’t have a paralyzing fear of her. They would probably include people like her advisors, generals, and other higher ups within close proximity.

Though the fact that he would rather have had Lexa kill his mother then ordering to banish one of her children spoke volumes. He said there were days that he sometimes resented Lexa. Perhaps it was because she didn’t kill his mother instead.

“Is that why you have some lingering resentment towards Lexa?” she asked. “Because she didn’t kill her?”

He turned back to her and said, “That about sums it.”

Roan said he hated Lexa for the first few months of his banishment before it dwindled down to lingering resentment. Perhaps it was because he thought over the circumstances of that decision and thought about what went on behind the scenes before deciding that his mother was the one he would blame the most for.

Clarke could try to do that. Though she doubt that it would change anything.

As for the conversations regarding their mother’s, Clarke thought it was only fair that she pitch in. “When I found out that my mother was the one who told the Chancellor about my father still wanting to go public with the news of the Ark’s life support system failing, I hated her,” she admitted. “I wanted to hurt her. Not physically but emotionally. Make her feel some pain by making her think that I was dead by prying off my wristband. It was only going to be temporary but I wanted her to feel something. Then on one afternoon when I digested contaminated Jobi Nuts, I hallucinated that I saw my father in the cell that I was in.”

Though it was only a hallucination which ended with Dax knocking her out with a rifle, she could still remember it. Remembering the hallucination of her father advising her to forgive her mother.

Roan raised his eyebrow incredulously. “That story is taking an interesting turn,” he observed.

“He told me to forgive my mother,” she continued. “At first, I never understood but coming to think of it, my father would have wanted me to forgive her. He would have understood that she never intended any of that to happen. So I did.” She took a deep breath, knowing what will come next. “Once she reached the ground, our recurring conflict was…” she took a deep breath. “She wasn’t there for the first month I was here on the ground, and it was like she felt the need to protect me. Even though I have witnessed enough to understand how things were. She told me that I was just a kid.” Clarke scoffed, pinpointing the exact day she was no longer a child. “I stopped being a kid the day I saw my father fly out of the airlock.”

After a moment of digesting her words, Roan said, “Well, at least your mother sounds better than my own.”

 


	11. Chapter Eleven

Arkadia.

That was the name that she and Marcus mutually agreed upon for the delegation of land that the Grounders marked on the map as their settlement. Their home.

“We will start anew this way,” he explained to her one night. “At the same time not forgetting where we came from.”

Looking at him every day, it was as though this past month and the aftermath of Mount Weather had aged him. He already was showing some grey in his hair and on the facial hair that was growing from his face. In Abby’s years, she had never known Marcus to let his facial hair grow. Though she found herself liking the facial hair on him.

Yet, this man was different from the man that she knew when they sent the kids down.

Abby sworn that she was showing some grey. Though it could easily been the stress from running their home and being a doctor at the same time. With the current surge of pneumonia among Arkadia’s population taking it up a notch.

Though her daughter’s absence was another factor.

“I understand your concern but if she has crossed the border into another clan’s territory, that is beyond our jurisdiction,” Tristan explained to her two weeks ago when she expressed desire to utilize some of his rangers to look for her. “If she traveled without knowing where she was going or giving any indication where she was going, it means she doesn’t want to be found.”

“If she doesn’t want to come back, we can’t force her,” Anya agreed that day as she holding one of the Mountain’s folders of horrors that Wells showed her. “Your daughter can survive on her own without any problems. Once she is ready, she will return home.”

“If it becomes apparent that she might be jeopardized, we will look for her,” Indra assured her. “Your daughter is smart. I shouldn’t doubt that she’ll evade people sent after her if it comes to it.”

The _Trikru_ weren’t any help, obviously. As they said their hands were tied with Ice Nation becoming a problem and that they didn’t want to force her to return if she didn’t want to.

While her daughter was strong, that didn’t prevent her from worrying about her wellbeing. They usually say that no news means good news but for Abby it was an agonizing pain. To take her mind off of anything horrible that might have happened, she concentrated on her duty as both a Chancellor and a doctor.

“Whoa, you’re not superwoman,” Raven would tell her in concern on a few occasions. “Just take a rest for a few hours. Otherwise you’ll crash and burn.”

It was easier said than done considering the spike of pneumonia. Abby was on her feet, though Jackson and Lincoln helped her with treating and checking over patients.

Though once in a while, such as now, she would look out the window. Half wishing to see her daughter walk towards her home. Even if it was such a long shot.

As she briefly turned towards the window, looking at the black December night as Jackson was treating Zoe Monroe, she thought, _Clarke, it’s been a month now. Where are you?_

She never thought she would be this worried for her daughter ever since the day Clarke and ninety-nine others were sent down to Earth from the Ark.

 

* * *

 

With a gasp, Clarke bolted up. Breathing heavily as she covered her bare torso with the furs and blankets. Cold sweat running down her neck as she looked over to see that Roan was still fast asleep. Not aware that she awoke from a previous nightmare. It was most nights that he would wake as well, though it was if he heard her talking or crying. It’s not often that he wouldn’t wake as well.

She contained her breathing as she quietly retrieved her sketchbook and drawing charcoal from the crate at her side of the bed. Lazily flipping through the pages to get to the next blank page.

A patch of flowers, fields and pastures, animals, winter landscapes, and even the Ark were one of the recurring themes in her sketchbook. Though winter seemed to dominate the pages in her sketchbook.

It seemed to fit, for they have just entered the last month of the year and because winter was related with the man slumbering next to her.

She could very well…no. That would be too intrusive. Not to mention that the idea oddly made the blood reach her cheeks. Odd as there was nothing romantic between them.

Though they were already pretty intimate outside the constraints of a relationship. Practically vulnerable though there was that one detail she never told him.

Looking over at him once more and watching as his chest moved as he breathed, she found herself smiling to herself. What could hurt?

The only light was the small oil lamp in the corner of the room though that might do. Clarke carefully bent her knee to prop up her sketchbook against it. Analyzing him before pressing the charcoal against the paper.

Though she was good at drawing people, she was better at drawing animals and landscapes. There was a chance at trying her hand at drawing people using him as reference could help her get better.

First she started by drawing an outline of his sleeping form. Carefully adding the details of the blankets over the bottom half of his body before paying attention to his torso. Shading certain areas before outlining his muscles.

She continued on until fatigue began to set in again. Clarke closed the sketchbook and placed it on top of the crate before settling herself in the covers. Placing her head against his shoulder and her hand to his heart. He responded by wrapping his arm around her and brushing her arm with his fingers.

His touch always managed to trigger the quickening of her pulse and was enough to catch her breath. Something that Finn’s touch never did. The feeling of the calluses on his fingers and hands were oddly soothing.

They were working hands. Hands and fingers that handled arrows, bows, axes, knives, swords, and various things in his lifetime.

Clarke tried willing herself to sleep, as she didn’t want to quite expect to focus on the topic of his hands and the feeling of them. That would be pushing it.

By morning, typically he was the first to rise from bed. She turned her head and slowly opened her eyes. Watching as he pulled his trousers over his legs.

Roan turned to her as he fastened his pants. Curling his lips in a smile. “Morning, Snowflake,” he greeted as he snagged his shirt from one of the bedposts at the footboard. “I thought I heard you wake at one point.”

“I couldn’t sleep at one point,” she answered. “Found myself awake.”

She wasn’t up to discuss that nightmare, which was the same as it was every other night. The gruesome aftermath after she and Bellamy were forced to pull the lever or Mount Weather’s dead haunting her in some other fashion.

Roan only knew the basic idea of what her nightmares consisted of. She still wasn’t up to telling him the full story after a month of it happening.

One month. She could barely believe it’s been that long, as it felt like yesterday since her hands unwittingly dipped themselves in the blood of Mount Weather’s dead.

“And you kept yourself busy until you could fall asleep again, I reckon,” he answered. “That is what I did sometimes before you came and on some nights I do.”

Clarke didn’t know what she could do to prevent herself from blushing heavily. She couldn’t tell him that she drew him while he was asleep. It would be creepy to hear and not to mention, she didn’t want to make a fool of herself.

 _Fool of herself_. Crap. She thought she remembered reading something from those magazines that were preserved since the Nuclear Apocalypse. That one of the signs that you like someone is if you don’t want to make a fool of yourself.

Clarke hastily tried to push such thoughts from her mind as she snagged on her clothes. Her, like him? No, there wasn’t anything romantic between them.

They were just friends. That’s all it was. Though she knew that it’s what people think every time they dismiss their feelings towards another.

As soon as he left the room, she folded the unfinished drawing. Her hands fumbling furiously in her effort to make sure he doesn’t see it. Resuming in pulling on her clothes afterwards.

Instead of the domestic task of preparing breakfast, the two of them stocked up their bags and fastened on their quivers. For he was assigned a fugitive this morning, it seemed. Clarke picked up the face piece that she made a week prior and strapped it around her face before pulling up her hood.

Not only to protect her face from the cold but in case people saw through her dye job. It was a long shot for that to happen but if bounty hunters like Roan could see through it, there was a chance that others could too.

No one was actively looking for her but it’s been a month since she departed from the gates of Camp Jaha. A lot can happen within a span of thirty days.

Though when Roan asks around looking for their fugitive, she’ll understand nearly every word that would be said, as she increasingly knew the Trigedasleng vocabulary every day. If they say anything about her, she’ll know.

The snow fell softly from the opaline sky as she guided her horse, Morrígan (after the Goddess of War from Celtic Mythology. It did fit, for the horse could be one that Grounders prefer going into battle. Given her speed.) through the snow covered fields alongside Roan. The snow caking around her boots.

The wind wasn’t strong but she swore that she saw snow softly blowing from the roof to the ground; snowdrifts were going to be a new concept for her as was that Hurricane almost two months ago.

“The drifts here are nothing compared to ones in the northern stretch of Ice Nation,” he vocalized. “They would go up as higher than your own head.”

Clarke struggled to suppress a snort. Drifts higher then one’s own head. “Now, you must be exaggerating,” she grumbled.

He answered with a chuckle. “If you were up there, you would see that I wasn’t, Snowflake ,” he alleged.

“If it’s true, I don’t want to fall in one of them,” she joked with a smile.

“Trust me, you would die from hypothermia before I would even get to you,” he conceded.

“Though I might die trying to get out,” she pointed out.

“Now, that is not a stretch,” he confirmed, actually beaming. Causing Clarke to smile as he appeared somewhat boyish. For it made him seem a few years younger than he actually was.

Like she was almost seeing the real him.

 

* * *

 

“Have you talked to him?” Monty asked Harper as they stood outside the fence for patrol. The cold early December wind blowing against their face.

“You wouldn’t realize how difficult it was to hear him veer away to the topic of suicide,” she answered tiredly. “Hearing him talk about wanting to escape his pain in various ways, it’s…” she lowered her head and breathed deeply. “It’s hard to hear that come from his mouth.”

Hearing Jasper talk about suicide was just as disturbing as Jasper’s hostility to him. Though Jasper’s accusation that he wasn’t affected by killing everyone in Mount Weather, including Maya, was as if a knife was stabbed into his heart.

“How could you be fine after committing genocide?” was one of Jasper’s jabs in the few times that he had seen him. Oh, how Monty wanted to tell him that he wasn’t fine. About the nightmares that was beginning to surface in his sleep in the past month since Mount Weather.

Though Monty felt sorry for him. It was excruciatingly painful to see his friend deteriorate into this mess before him. He just wanted his friend back. He didn’t think that he could turn back the clock to where they were both on the Ark before all of this.

“I’m starting to think that the Ark was much better before all this,” he admitted. “At least I didn’t have to make any life or death decisions.”

“At least we didn’t have to worry about being drained for our bone marrow then,” Harper concurred. “The SkyBox was heaven compared to that torture.”

Monty thought that it was too accurate of a thought. The years before landing on the ground was more preferable, even with all those crazy restrictions that they lived with.

 

* * *

 

The first trading post past the border was indicative that they weren’t the only ones to set foot within the establishment. Though it didn’t bother Roan at all. The more people who might know where this person was, the better. After all, it was mainly a customer of Bartholomew’s that gave him rather helpful information then the post trader himself.

Clarke tied Morrígan to a post that was situated next to the post that the other horse was tied to before entering behind him.

“ _…some think there is a Commander of Death roaming around parts unknown_ ,” he heard someone tell Bartholomew, the post trader. “ _One has to command death if they burned three hundred Woods Clan warriors to a crisp before –_ ”

Conversation ceased as they saw him step into the premises and approaching the counter. Clarke hastily removed her face piece to warm her hands with her breath as she stood next to him at the counter. In close proximity to a boy that was around her age.

“ _Looking for something_?” Bartholomew asked him, warily looking around the trading room as if his presence might unsettle the handful of patrons inside.

“ _Someone, to be correct_ ,” Roan specified before withdrawing the notice from his coat. “ _Looking for a horse thief suspected of assault. Have anyone seen him?_ ”

Silence greeted his question at first, though it would have been silence had it not been for that conversation that Clarke was having with someone. Probably that boy she was standing in close proximity.

He found himself staring at the suspect, who no doubt gripping his belt tightly with his hand as he straightened his spine. The blood reaching his face, neck, and hands at what he was seeing.

 _Concentrate on your task_ , he mentally reminded himself. It didn’t help any that his blood was simmering at the thought of a boy having a particular fancy for Clarke. Someone like her deserved someone more mature. Someone like –

Shit.

“ _I saw him five minutes ago before stopping here_ ,” answered a middle aged woman. “ _Taking Thorbridge’s Crossing if I’m correct_.”

Thorbridge’s Crossing. Leads straight to Plain Riders territory from his memory.

“ _Mochof_ ,” he thanked. Turning to Clarke, he prompted, “ _Time to go_.” Unsuccessfully hiding the bitterness in his tone.

Clarke, however, seemed to catch on his demeanor. Her eyebrows were furrowed in confusion though she fumbled with her face gear as she eased past him.

He couldn’t blame her for her confusion, for this jealousy he was feeling puzzled him beyond a reasonable doubt. If he is jealous at the thought of another interacting with her in a flirtatious manner when he wasn’t for two weeks ago, it screamed that he liked her and that his feelings were more than sexual.

No, that can’t be right.

“ _Why the attitude?_ ” she demanded as they stepped outside into the winter landscape. “There was no need to act that way for no particular reason.”

“ _No particular reason?_ ” he demanded as she untied her horse from the post. “If he held you up, we would be losing track of the bastard I have been tasked to catch.”

Clarke glared at him as she held the reins closely. _“Stop pretending it’s one thing when it’s something else_ ,” she accused. “ _In fact, your body language and tone insinuated jealousy_.”

Now this _Skaigada_ was pushing it. “ _Why would I be jealous?_ ” he demanded, though it was possible that he was lying to himself. “ _That is looking too much into it_.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. Muttering something to which he thought was “men” before mounting on Morrígan. After a moment, she asked him, “ _Any inclination what they were talking about when we stepped in?_ ”

Something about a Commander of Death? Or a _Wanheda_? He had heard some whispers in Polis a few days prior after retrieving a bounty. About how some of the things that have happened ever since the _Skaikru_ landed were committed by the same Harbinger of Death.

More specifically, that their leader was that Harbinger of Death; who seemed to suspiciously share the same name as _Clarke_. He would have thought that they might be talking about a man if the feminine pronouns weren’t used along with it.

Though he knew that masculine names could be used for girls and vice versa.

It didn’t help anything as a whisper from a traveling supply vendor suggested that there is a rumor that this Clarke had gone AWOL after Mount Weather.

“ _Something about a Commander of Death_ ,” he answered. _Now, I wonder_ , he thought. Thinking this Clarke he was with and this other one were the same would be stupidity but so would missing the dots. “ _Some think that the leader of the Sky People is some Harbinger of Death. Have you known anyone among the Sky People that would fit that name?_ ”

Clarke stared at him for a moment. As if she didn’t know what to say in response. “ _No_ ,” she answered. “ _I didn’t know anyone that would…_ ” she shook her head. “ _Why would anyone command death? There is no logic to it_.”

Aside from her dismissing any sort of claim as she thought that it defied logic, her pause would be considered suspect enough. As if she was trying to find words that wouldn’t implicate as a _Wanheda_.

“ _You’re on a radiation infested death planet_ ,” he answered as to not make it obvious that he noticed her pause. “ _Expect things that defy logic_.”

“ _Even on a radioactive planet, there has to be logic_ ,” she pressed, sounding very agitated. “ _One has to draw a line somewhere_.”

While true, there were still some things that defied logic.

 

* * *

 

She played coy when asked about whether they knew they were talking about in that trading post. Though with a horror, she didn’t doubt who they were referring to for they mentioned the Ring of Fire before her and Roan’s presence interrupted them.

 _It’s me_ , she thought. _I’m that Commander of Death they are speaking about_.

Who else could they be referring to? After all, it was her idea to burn Tristan and Anya’s army to a blackened crisp back in October. She wouldn’t have done it without the combined efforts of Raven and Jasper but it was still her idea.

Though what they might have said haven’t they felt interrupted is what bothered her. Perhaps the Mountain. That would be the only thing she could think of.

“Okay, this is where they saw him,” said Roan, interrupting her train of thought. She looked to see where his eyes were directed to a pathway surrounded by a patch of dead trees. With a wooden sign bearing the words _Thorbridge Crossing_ in Trigedasleng. “You know what the routine is, so I don’t have to remind you of it.”

I know what it is,” she confirmed. She had done it several times. Lure fugitives by her mere presence before Roan could take them. Though half the time she would sustain some sort of injury in the process. Something that would naturally come with it.

It was unrealistic to expect that any of these fugitives would play nice if they came up close to her.

He didn’t even need to tell her to proceed first. She took her horse towards the pass. Though she turned her head slightly to watch as the distance grew between them before turning her gaze back towards what was ahead.

When they traveled a good distance, Clarke called Morrígan to a stop. She left the fur saddle before pulling the horse towards the nearest tree. Tying her to it before gathering twigs for a fire.

This was part of her plan, as the sight and smell of smoke of a fire would attract people.

Clarke arranged the twigs in a teepee-like structure; using friction to allow for the dead leaves to steam before hastily moving it to the twigs. Blowing on it so flames would spark and expand.

She bent down to her knees as she blew on her hands and rubbed them together; keeping them close to the heat of the flames. Her mind drifted to the trading post they just passed through. He denied any moment of jealousy though his tone and body language indicated otherwise.

Though, Clarke didn’t think she wanted to believe that he would get jealous. There was nothing between them. Thinking like an idiot about it wouldn’t help, though.

The snapping of a twig made Clarke to look back behind her. Seeing nothing but trees and snow. No one in sight.

Morrígan reacted, as well. Lifting her head and neighing; Clarke pulled on the rope to keep her horse from running. Opening the saddle bag in the process as to give her food in an effort to calm her down.

Seconds later, there were sounds of a struggle and she turned to see Roan overpowering the guy that they were hunting. Disarming him and placing him in a defenseless position before wrapping his arm just below the man’s jaw in order to knock him out.

“Some help here?” Roan panted as he lowered the unconscious man to the ground.

Clarke came forward and without a word, tied some rope around the man’s ankles. Loose enough that he’ll be able to walk but tight enough that he won’t escape from them.

They both dragged him to where Clarke was sitting previously. Sharing food from Roan’s pack as they sat close together to keep warm until their captive woke up.

 

* * *

 

“ _We found one of them_ ,” Orion grunted as he pulled up a flailing bundle from the pile of snow.

At first, it was rather disappointing when Echo’s group set out on a location near a village based on a lead from one of Earl Javier’s workers. Only to find that cave practically empty.

Or so they thought as Orion seemed to find one hiding under that pile of snow. These Marauders seemed to have easily misplaced one of their own in this bitter cold. Echo wasted no time in helping Orion maintain his hold on the _Skaikru_ scum. Placing the blade of her knife against his throat.

Close enough that she could feel his heartbeat against the blade.

“If you scream, I will not hesitate to cut open your back and tear the lungs from your body,” she threatened.

She thought she could feel him swallow hard as she and Orion pushed him back into the cave where the rest of their scouting entourage was located.

“ _Looks like we just got lucky_ ,” Bronson deduced, leering at the heavily breathing lowlife. “ _Perhaps he knows where his lot is_.”

Actually –

“ _It might be smarter to return to the outpost_ ,” Echo advised. “ _We don’t want to run the risk of having his lot come back for him_.”

“ _We’ll let them come_ ,” said Juniper, directing a nasty smirk towards their captive’s direction. “ _In fact, we should cut off their heads and place them on pikes at the blights’ border. Teach their lot a lesson not to mess with us_.”

Echo couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the stupidity of the idea. The Queen wanted them gone, true but this idea was impulsive. It was an idea that even Roan would detest to.

Oh, Roan. She wouldn’t doubt that if he came across one from _Skaikru_ , he could easily show them boss. Though Bellamy might be a very outstanding exception.

“ _Echo has a point_ ,” Orion vocalized. “ _Exterminating this group this way wouldn’t be per the Queen’s idea. The Queen wants it to be a systematic cleansing. That they are more apt to learn a lesson when we come for them slowly_.”

What Orion said wasn’t incorrect. Queen Nia never saw a point in wiping them out all at once. It was more efficient to pick these Marauders off one by one. Time consuming but efficient.

A method that Echo couldn’t help but agree with. Besides, it was more entertaining that way. Terror in the air for these Sky Rats would do.

Though unfortunately, since Bellamy was also from the sky, it would lump him into that category. _There should be more like him among his lot_ , she thought.

After all, he was the only one willing to save her people. Not like this guy they were marching to the royal guard outpost.

It was a good thing that her fellow guardsmen couldn’t read her mind. For her thoughts favoring a Sky Person while dragging another to force information out of him would amount as treason.

And everyone knew the punishment for treason was the removal of their right eyes followed by banishment. For torture and death was considered too kind of a punishment for treason.

 

* * *

 

Roan and Clarke rendezvoused as they usually would at the trading post owned by _Roman kom Trikru_ and his daughter Niylah. After exchanging the prisoner in return for a box of trading trinkets. The alternative was planting seeds but there was no point with winter blooming.

With his boots getting worn at the soles, he wasn’t against trading pieces of what looked like insides of ancient technology for a better pair. The transactions went smoothly but it didn’t help that Niylah was being obvious when it came to her interactions with Clarke.

It took much willpower to prevent himself from stomping his own foot. Acting jealous would only make himself seem obvious. Roan didn’t want a repeat of that discussion they had.

Upon leaving, Clarke swiftly put on her face guard as the door opened. Revealing it to be three _Trikru_. One of them, a girl with red hair, sizing him up. Sizing him up to suggest that there was some attraction there.

She wasn’t the first girl to ogle him but it was rather irritating at the least. Though he had to admit that some guys looked at him that way as well. Not that it disgusted him, even if Roan was only interested in the opposite sex.

Moira did call him “sex on two legs” at one point.

He thought he saw Clarke’s blue eyes burn in a glare as she eyed the girl. Not long before grabbing his hand and steering him away from the building. Muttering a string of profanities in Trigedasleng and English.

What happened that pushed her buttons?

She was still muttering to herself as she untied Morrígan from her post. Going back and forth between Gonasleng and Trigedasleng. “A trading post is where you get supplies. Not a place where you want some dick,” she muttered at one point.

He thought it was best to keep silent as she vented. No need to make it worse. When they got to an underground subway, they set up camp there. Heating up leftover meat from their bags.

“Does it ever annoy you?” she asked him before she popped a piece of turkey meat into her mouth.

“What?” she asked.

“That people look at you like they jump your bones?” she clarified.

“It does irritate me, that I can’t deny,” he answered, letting a chuckle escape from his throat. “Even with the mud on my face, it doesn’t stop them from sizing me up like they want to take me to bed. Moira called me sex on a stick once.”

Though her face was flushing red, it didn’t seem like it stopped her chuckling. “Well, you are a looker. You would be someone that I would take to bed with me, even.”

The irony of her statement was enough to make him chuckle. “Very interesting for you to say that, since we have been sleeping together for nearly a month,” he noted.

She chuckled as she peeled a strip of turkey from a slab she was holding. “That is true,” she admitted. “You are awesome to have sex with to be honest.”

When the night passed, they traveled back to Blue Cliff territory. To the cabin where they rest, eat, sleep, practice with swords, sleep together, and bathe until the next bounty.

Though he didn’t know how long that would be in case a bounty is placed on her head. That is, if she was what they call a _Wanheda_. Though there was not too much room for doubt when it came to the idea.

The two of them practiced with his swords. She had gotten better, with the sword not falling out of her hand. Though she hasn’t succeeded in knocking him to the ground. If a warrior was able to beat his or her mentor during training that meant that they were ready for fighting on their own.

He was trained in the art of battle while Clarke was beginning to learn. Though that didn’t stop him from training her with some hand-to-hand combat. Something that was entirely his idea.

“You might want to use your fists and elbows if you are out of reach from your weapon,” he advised her. “Aside from work, we don’t have hands and feet for nothing.”

“I guess you could say that,” was her answer.

Had she been in _Azgeda_ , she might have been trained under a high ranking Guardsmen of his mother’s choosing. Or his mother herself. His mother had many apprentices under her tutelage (with Echo being one of them. His mother thought that Echo’s own father training her would cause preferential bias. Though Roan might peg her as a hypocrite because his mother insisted that he learn from her and her alone). Probably placed in the Royal Guard and placed in the espionage unit. Especially considering that Clarke was hiding from her people and had berry-dyed her hair.

It wouldn’t be too hard to picture Clarke in the white furs that the Royal Guard had on their overcoats.

Great. He was thinking about her in terms of his home. A place where he didn’t expect to go in his mind actually.

 

* * *

 

Clarke’s first experience with hand to hand combat was when she got into a big brawl at the Dropship site with Anya when they were on the run from Mount Weather. After the truce was put in effect, Anya did decide to train her on some methods, in which she told her, “Not bad but your skills could take for some refining.”

Anya wasn’t an easy person to practice combat with, so neither would Roan. Typical since the warriors from the Grounder clans would know a thing or two about hand to hand combat. Which was obvious as she couldn’t determine his moves eighty percent of the time as they were learning combat under the falling snow.

One hour later, she was sitting down on the chair in the main room as she allowed him to nurse her split lip. Something that she knew that she could easily do herself without any help but her bones were weary from practice sparring.

“They say that starting at high difficulty level benefits the warrior,” he said as he held the ice cold cloth to her lip. “My mother could be one of those people though I wouldn’t give you the same level of difficulty that she gave me when it came to practicing combat.”

As his mother had no qualms about risking her son’s life when it came to challenges, it should be hard to conceive that she would make training sessions difficult. Possibly life threatening even.

“You’re still alive, though,” she noted.

He chuckled and answered, “I was more useful to her alive then dead that I can say.”

Clarke fought the urge to bite her lip as he set down the ice cold and wet cloth on the table. Instead, she placed her hand over his and felt the heat reach her face and hands; her pulse beginning to race. He looked at her, like her gesture caught his attention.

 _What am I doing?_ She scolded herself as she quickly withdrew her hand from his. Though the blush didn’t recede from her cheeks. Looking at him, it was like he was trying not to feel awkward. As it was like he was trying to avert eye contact as he rung the damp cloth into the water basin.

For some reason, the lack of eye contact bothered her. She would rather him look at her.

Even though she knew the answer, she asked, “I’m curious: is there a part of you that loves your mother?”

His blue eyes snapped to hers. _Yes, that’s right_ , she thought. _That’s all I needed_.

“She never seemed to love me, so what was the point of reciprocating a gesture of love that was never there to begin with?” was his answer.

Every mother was not the same. Some were more maternal then others. Some were tough. Given the circumstances of his conception and what he was telling her so far, it raised the implication that there were women who had children not because they wanted them but because there was something to gain from it.

Back on the Ark, though there was a limit of one child per family, having a child was required. For babies were considered the future of the human race. It was possible that there were women who only had one child to ensure the continuity of the human race. She wouldn’t doubt it.

Though her own mother wasn’t such a mother.

Clarke moved away from the main room, saying something about resting her muscles before mealtime. She plopped herself on the bed. Kicking her boots from her feet before curling up into a semi ball.

Her hand reached towards the crate by her side of the bed to pull her sketchbook and drawing charcoal to her. Flipping through the pages as she heard him moving around in the kitchen.

As she got to her half-finished drawing of him, Clarke watched as he was moving around in the kitchen. With him focused on his task, he wasn’t going into the bedroom anytime soon. She gulped before pressing the charcoal against the paper, resuming her sketch of him.

 

* * *

 

With everything going on in Mount Weather, the fact that his father was absent never really sunk in until a week ago. Wells was wondering why he wasn’t seeing his father around and that no one thought to tell him.

After worry was gnawing at his gut for a period of time did he think to ask Mrs. Griffin and the Vice Chancellor.

“Your father said something about a City of Light a couple of weeks before he left,” said Kane. “He didn’t think that it would benefit us if we stayed in Woods Clan territory. He left with twelve other people and they haven’t been back since.”

“I’m sorry for not telling you sooner,” Abby apologized. “With everything happening with Mount Weather, well…”

However, his father’s absence was more bothersome then not being informed. It hurt that his father didn’t seem to have faith at their chances of life here. Things weren’t going to be rosy.

A civil relationship with the Woods Clan was all they needed. They were bound to have their conflicts but a stable relationship was all they needed. Why couldn’t his father understand that?

“You have us, Wells,” Raven assured to him as they loaded an umpteenth deer into the back of a wagon. “Friends count as family. Don’t forget that.”

He knew that. With his father being absent and with Clarke walking off into the unknown, there was more to his worries.

“I know that,” he pointed out. “My biggest concern is that this place he’s looking for might not even exist. City of Light? There’s nothing logical about it just by the name itself.”

“There isn’t,” Anya agreed as she stowed away her hunting gear. “It’s nothing but pure myth. There is no real place that can cure pain.”

“For all we know, he probably died in the Dead Zone while trying to find it,” Beaufort, one of the _Trikru_ accompanying Anya, put forth. “Heat death. Maybe was killed by a bunch of bandits. The Dead Zone has plenty of those.”

Bellamy and Miller glared at the Grounder while another Grounder – a girl named Corrine with wild red hair – elbowed him in the ribs. Beaufort answered by shoving her to the wagon.

“Stop acting like infants,” Anya scolded. Rolling up a tarp, she said, “We should clear out. Take the caught game to be processed at your settlement before dinner. We don’t want to give your Chancellor grief by catching pneumonia.”

“Okay, Grounder Princess,” Raven responded.

The response was a chuckle from Bellamy and Miller. Though Wells found himself chuckling a little bit as well.

“Whatever,” Anya answered as she rolled her eyes. “Let’s head on out.”

“There better not be another dead deer by the time we hunt again,” Corrine muttered under her breath. When they started the hunting trail hours ago, they spotted a dead deer. Which they had to leave behind as Anya expressed fear that the meat might be contaminated.

Wells remembered that back in the Ark, Pike was saying how they shouldn’t pick off dead animals when hunting. As one never knew what pathogens they might be carrying.

Bellamy, Raven, and Miller stowed their hunting weapons into the Rover next to the wagon. With Miller muttering “cocky son of a bitch” under his breath in the few times he glanced at Beaufort’s direction.

Before Wells departed for the Rover, Anya placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t give up hope that your father is alive,” she assured him. “If _Skaikru_ can survive two centuries in space, he might be able to survive after trekking through the Dead Zone. He’ll be back one of these days.”

Even if the odds were against his father’s survival, being given assurance about his wellbeing was what he needed in these times.

 

* * *

 

After a dinner of lamb stew, Roan decided to open one of the cabinets by the drawer and took out an ancient and rusted out bottle of what Clarke could only assume to be liquor. She was vaguely aware that he had possession of liquor. Not that he wasn’t a drinker.

“Ever had rum before?” he asked her as he opened the bottle as he sat next to her.

“No, but I had whiskey when I got down here,” she admitted truthfully. “One of my friends whipped up moonshine a couple months ago for that Unity Day celebration down here.”

Monty. She regretted that her mind didn’t wander to him when thinking about her friends. How was he doing, since he literally made it possible for them to push the lever? Last time she saw him, he was shook up from what they had to do.

“Something tells me that you might like this better,” he premised as he handed her the open bottle.

Cautiously, Clarke tipped the bottle to her lips and took a swallow. Her eyes widening from the strength of it and the burning sensation of it. It tasted something like…fermented sugarcane juice. Or molasses. Making it have this grassy sweet flavor.

“Wow…um, this tastes better than that whiskey I drank,” she said as she handed the bottle back to him. Watching as he took a swallow. “Tastes like molasses.”

“Rum, like whiskey, is considered a worker’s drink in my old deck of the woods,” he admitted. “Though I managed to swipe a bottle from the Royal Guard’s liquor cache without the queen knowing. Or Echo would sneak me a bottle.”

“So, you were bit of a rebel then?” she asked, trying to ignore the fact that the blood was reaching her face at the mention at his former lover and that bitterness was beginning to simmer. Just as it did when he mentioned Moira. She had no idea why she didn’t feel like this when he mentioned them before.

She just wished she would stop being oblivious to was going on in her brain right now.

“I was a rebel in many ways, Clarke,” he confirmed with a wry smile. “If I had my way, I could walk into the throne hall like this.”

The idea of it sent Clarke laughing. Taking the rum bottle from his hand to take another swig. It shouldn’t be funny since his mother would have maimed him for such behavior, though it didn’t stop the urge to laugh.

“She would send me up to get washed up before sending me away to the White Forest for a few hours for my insubordination,” he continued. “The servants would probably want to shave my face, though they wouldn’t if they want their hands.”

Frankly, the stubble did suit him. It would be hard to see him without it.

“Well, I think you would look strange without it,” Clarke admitted as she passed him back the bottle.

“I was practically clean shaven five years ago,” he confessed. “Due for having any growing facial hair removed from my face. At least that edict from the Commander was good for one thing.”

Even when he said it, she couldn’t process the image in her head. The stubble suited that rugged look he had.

“It makes you more attractive, let me say that,” she said, earning a chuckle in response.

Clarke thought her cheeks were turning warm at those words. _I hope he didn’t notice,_ she thought, after taking a third swig from the bottle of rum. She didn’t want him to get the idea that she was flirting with him. Hoping to change the subject, she asked him, “What are your favorite books to read?”

His head jerked towards her. Seemingly off guard by her question. “I don’t have a particular favorite book in mind,” he answered. “It only matters if it has an engaging storyline.”

“I have plenty,” she answered. Science fiction, fantasy, nonfiction… There was one particular book she was in love with in her younger days on the Ark. “I loved _Beauty and the Beast_ when I was a little girl. The original French version especially.”

“Looks like you have that in common with my younger sister,” he admitted with a smile before taking a swig from rum in the bottle. “I’m curious. Of the two of us, who do you think is beauty and who do you think is beast?”

The question alone was enough for Clarke to bite her lip. This would be a trick question if she didn’t know any better. By appearances, she’d be beauty and Roan would be beast, though it was more complicated than that. According to part of the “beast and beauty” trope that was named after that French fairytale, the beauty was the kind, smart, and emotional one whereas the beast was capable of great rage and destruction.

Kindness wasn’t one to survive in a world ravaged by a nuclear holocaust. Technically they would both be beauty. Yet, considering Mount Weather, the Ring of Fire, and her part in the casualties from the TonDC missile, it would lean her more towards beast.

She was the one capable of great destruction.

“Of the two of us, I think you’d be beauty and I’d be beast,” she answered.

In response, he smiled and threw back as his head as he chuckled in amusement. “That’s a good one, Clarke,” he chortled. “That turns things around.”

“Well, you’re smart,” she said as she took her fourth swig of rum. “Besides, I don’t know you to possess great rage and destruction. That might describe me.”

“You’re a smart person,” he said to her, “and I don’t think that you have ever seen me angry before.”

She thought back to when Moira told her about pummeling another bounty hunter to a pulp for suggesting that he was pampered and soft. Maybe they were both the beauty and the beast in some ways.

The two of them shared a few more swigs of rum, though Clarke drank more than him. Clarke could feel the onset of intoxication setting in, like the last time with the whiskey while riding out the acid fog.

“Great destruction?” she asked after drinking her final swig of rum. “You’d be surprised. I have done more then what would be my fair share.” _Where to start_. “I could talk about the time where I and my friends burned three hundred warriors in a ring of fire. Well, actually that was my idea but that wouldn’t have happened if not for two of my friends. The second time would be the fact that I allowed Mount Weather to blow up TonDC with a missile without warning the inhabitants. Well, I wanted to tell people but that bitch of a Commander didn’t want me to. Under the excuse that we couldn’t risk the safety of one of my friends, who was infiltrating Mount Weather at the time.”

The image of Lexa, with her face bloodied as she revealed that she took the deal from the Mountain Men, sent a ripple of anger through Clarke’s veins. Even if Roan wasn’t angry with Lexa for his banishment, Clarke wasn’t over her anger over Lexa leaving her and her people to their own devices.

“She promised that the two of us would free our people together,” she said, feeling her eyes prickling with tears. “That we would walk away from the Mountain together. But what does that bitch do? She took a deal. Walking away with her people but leaving me and my people at the Mountain. Leaving us to die. I tried convincing the Mountain Men’s leader to free my people. That I would irradiate Level 5 of Mount Weather if he didn’t. He didn’t and I…” Clarke shook her head. Remembering the empty feeling within her as she shot Dante Wallace in the heart. “I made the mistake of killing his father to get him to cooperate and he retaliated by having my mother being selected for bone marrow drilling. That pushed me to do what I did.” She shuddered at the image of her and Bellamy pushing the lever and the aftermath.

Oh, how she wished that those images weren’t so vivid. “One of my friends tampered with their filtration system, enabling me and my other friend to push the lever and…” Clarke inhaled and exhaled, shuddering. Remembering the reeking odor of burning flesh from the radiation burns. “I didn’t want to. But…but I felt like I had no choice. S-sometimes I could smell the stench of burned flesh of the innocent people that I killed along with the guilty.”

From there, Clarke crumbled. She could feel everything shake around her. Fully aware that those were her own sobs sending her into an oblivion of devastation.


	12. Chapter Twelve

If Clarke wasn’t intoxicated as she was, he might have told her that what she did was necessary. That it was one of the most grisly aspects of war. Since she was practically inconsolable at this moment, those words could not suffice.

Roan enfolded her in his arms and began whispering the Northern _Azgeda_ lullaby into her ear. There were three variations of it from his memory. Though the one that his father sang and taught him went as followed:

_My dear child, never fear the cold and furious winds outside._

_Fall asleep, for you are safe and dream._

_Dream that you are running through the White Forest._

_Ride the white wolf through the eternal snow, for her fur protects you._

_Drink in the stars and clouds above as you travel through the trees_

_For you might see the story of King William unfold._

_Sleep. For you are safe and sound in your warm bed_

_Dream. Dream that you’re running through the White Forest_

If the history of the song was correct, a century ago, it originated in one of the villages that were a few hours away from Gara. That a mother tried to come up with a lullaby to calm her children for they were afraid of the brutal blizzard outside their cabin walls.

As what his father told him. Then again his paternal grandfather was the Earl that was assigned to govern that village. So, of course he would know. It would be stupid to assume that he wouldn’t.

He repeated the lullaby in her ear until her cries ceased and she fell asleep. With his fingers, Roan brushed away her tears before lifting her up and carrying her to the bed; careful not to stumble over on his way.

Careful to position her so that if she woke up, she wouldn’t drown in her own vomit; and he placed a small bucket next to her side of the bed so she would have something to vomit in. He took off her boots and placed them next to the crate by her bed.

Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to introduce rum to her after dinner. For it was most likely not her intention to spill out the full magnitude of her actions at this time. People were more willing to talk under the influence of alcohol. An aspect that his father exploited if he thought someone was susceptible of working against him.

Roan found himself desperately wishing that Clarke wouldn’t think that it was reason to get her to drink and spill everything out. It wouldn’t be surprising if she did.

Last night’s decision of light hearted drinking could undo a month worth of building trust. An innocent gesture of sharing a bottle with a new friend could be interpreted differently with her spilling the beans.

            Upon distancing himself away from her, he had accidentally brushed against the crate. The sound of papers cascading on the floor. Turning around to see that it was her sketchbook that had fallen down, Roan hastily bent over with the intention to pick them up.

            Though curiosity led him to see what they were. For she never shared her drawings with him from his memory. As if they were like sacred entries in a journal.

            The first one was a scene of a forest at nighttime. The second was unmistakably a winter scene; with piles of snow on rooftops. The third, a bushel of flowers. The fourth, an artistic rendition of the Niagara Falls during winter time. As if she was trying to picture it even if she didn’t see it herself.

            Roan swallowed as he blinked away tears. The sight of a reminder of _Azgeda_ ; home, stirred feelings of homesickness in him. How he wanted to tell her how close she was in her visual rendition.

Looking at her sketches, he could see that winter was the recurring theme.

At the last of the sketches, it was the last one –which he had to unfold – specifically that drew his attention. For he could easily recognize the man in the drawing as himself; the blanket covering him up to his waist on his sleeping form.

 _She drew me_ , he thought. The blood rushing to his face at the concept. Like a schoolboy who found an indication that a girl liked him.

It was obvious that she hid this from him. Embarrassment maybe? She shouldn’t be ashamed for drawing his likeness. Though he hoped that the events of recently wouldn’t lead her to tear this drawing apart.

            That night, the inevitable fallout of her drunken reveal recurred in his mind. Though he knew what to say and how to say it. That he connected the dots when she gave him a minimalist account and that if she was going to tell him anyway, there was no reason that she would be angry with him.

            With Clarke, though, she was very stubborn. Stubborn enough to retain her anger until thinking otherwise. Though convincing her shouldn’t be hard.

            Why was he worrying about it anyway?

            Hours later, Roan opened his eyes to see Clarke bend over towards the edge of the bed. Presumably to vomit. Instinctively, he reached over and pulled her hair back; keeping it out of her face as she heaved.

            Seeing the contents of her stomach spill from her mouth would have ruined his digestion if he didn’t know any better.

            “Spit all of it out,” he encouraged her. “You don’t want to swallow some of your vomit, do you?”

            Clarke coughed up the last of her vomit before wiping off her mouth. Turning to glare at him once she was done.

            “Do you have a headache?” he asked her. “Because I have the very things to take care of hangovers.”

            “No,” she answered snipingly. Picking the bucket up after leaving the bed. Opening the window and throwing the putrid contents outside.

            “Someone woke up in the wrong side of the bed this morning,” he drawled as he observed her slamming the window shut. At that, her blue eyes turned towards his own. Glowering at him that she could be very well burning his skull on fire with her eyes as if she wanted to.

            “Don’t tell me it was your intention to get me drunk in order to get me to talk,” she demanded.

            _Here we go_ , he thought as he sighed. “If you believe that, you would have to be dense in the head,” he answered as he sat up. “Maybe it was a mistake to give you alcohol if you were going to compare yourself to the beast from that fairytale.”

            Clarke’s nostrils flared up as she inhaled deeply and exhaled. “I…you,” she sputtered, her face red. “I never intended to speak about the full magnitude of what I did. I wasn’t ready! And I never would have had you never offered me rum!”

            “Wasn’t ready as in you didn’t trust me or the fact that you weren’t emotionally ready?” he demanded of her.

            She froze where she stood. The blood draining from her face as she took shallow breathes. “The latter, Roan,” she agonized, her eyes glassy. “It’s not about trust. It’s just that…it already tortures me in my sleep. I was afraid that talking about the full magnitude would –"

            Clarke sat on the floor, leaning against the edge of the bed. Sobbing into her arm softly.

He took a deep breath, debating his next action. In _Azgeda_ , she would have been beaten for expressing that type of particular emotion after recounting an event that she just described last night. That crying was a sign of weakness and that warriors weren’t weak.

But Clarke wasn’t _Azgeda_ and it was obvious that concealing such an act took a toll on her. Yet, he would never lay a hand on her anyway for showing emotion. He never did anyway in the previous times that she broke down.

Roan crossed over to her and sat next to her. “Clarke,” he said, touching her shoulder.

“No,” she gasped, shaking her head.

“Look at me,” he pleaded, turning her face towards his. Her bottom lip quivered and her eyes were glistening wet from the tears she shed. “You kept this within you for a month. Even if you were sober, you still would have broken down into a sobbing heap.”

“I…never meant to tell you in that fashion,” she rasped. “I would have given it a couple of weeks, if…” she sighed. “I never thought…I didn’t want to but their leader gave me no choice. Lexa gave me no choice.”

He couldn’t say it last night, but he could say it now. “No one can prevent innocent blood in times of war,” he pointed out. “Is it unnecessary bloodshed? Yes, but it can’t be prevented unfortunately.”

“I tried, Roan,” she agonized. “It was just supposed to be a rescue mission. It most likely would have involved the death of their leadership but I would have spared the innocent. It all changed when Lexa turned around to take that deal. If she could have just faked taking that deal, this wouldn’t have happened.”

Roan knew there was a way to say this without invalidating her grief. “You mentally beat yourself up over the innocent lives you took. This was the first time you had to take innocent lives that you didn’t mean to and you’re grieving their deaths. It’s natural. However, even if everything went as planned, there would be no guarantee that the Mountain wouldn’t resume its gruesome tactics and put you back in the situation that got you in that mess in the first place.”

“How can you be sure?” she demanded of him. As if that very thought was ludicrous.

“Do you expect every person aside from your targets in the Mountain to disagree with what their leadership was doing to your people?” he asked her. “To what they were doing to _Trikru_ before that?”

Clarke furrowed her brow before turning away her head in thought.

“It might not be in my place as I wasn’t there but from what it sounds like, those deaths were unavoidable,” he said. “Even if the Commander faked that deal and tried convincing their leadership at the time to not commit genocide on your fellow _Skaikru_ , there was no way he would have budged. You would have ended up making the same decision you made a month ago.

 “You can’t save everyone that you want to save, Clarke,” he continued.  “As unfortunate as it is, it’s a part of life and war.”

“Then who do I save?” she demanded. “You can’t expect me to leave people to die.”

“You save who you can,” he necessitated. “It might not be easy but we can’t save everyone. There comes a time where people would have to save themselves.”

Clarke swallowed, as if she was trying to consider it.

“In regards to me knowing, when you told me a minimalist account, I already had it figured out,” he answered truthfully.

“So, you…you knew?” she choked.

“It was easy to connect the dots,” he admitted. “I figured that it would be Mount Weather as they would be the only group you would kill that wouldn’t result in getting repercussions from _Trikru_.”

 

* * *

 

 _“…and the unfortunately, famine is gradually worsening_ ,” continued Novi, the Plain Riders’ ambassador. “ _Even with resourceful attempts to grow good crops, farmers have seen mediocre to no results_.”

Lexa removed her hand from her face and straightened her posture, “ _and this has been going on for…?_ ”

“ _Since three months ago_ ,” he agonized. “ _As off handed as this may seem, some of my people believe that this is all do to the toxins that remained in our atmosphere since Praimfaya_.”

“ _It’s not off handed_ ,” Anya pitched in from her seat. “ _Our hunters have noticed a one percent reduction in the animal population since last month after the beginning of harvest_. _On a hunting trip with the Sky People yesterday, our group actually found a dead deer on arrival_.”

At that, _Ivan kom Azgeda_ shifted in his seat. Drawing glances towards him. Seeing it, Lexa pursed her lips and asked, “ _Do you have anything to bring to the table, Ivan_?”

“ _Yes, in fact_ ,” he answered, standing from his seat. “ _Ice Nation is still blighted by these Marauders that landed from the sky two months ago and we still have yet to receive action from your end_.”

Titus glanced at her as Lexa bit her lip. That issue was bound to be brought up. Not to mention that Titus expressed his distaste in her not doing anything.

“ _Executing a group of them would be betraying my end of the truce I made with the Sky People within Woods Clan territory two months ago_ ,” Lexa put forth, using a tone that indicated that the matter wouldn’t need discussing.

Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to work on him. “ _You are willing to protect the very people that came into your clan of origin’s territory and slaughtered your people?_ ” he chuckled in derision.

“ _Some of those decisions were unintentional_ ,” Anya spoke up, glaring at Ivan. “ _They meant their contact their people with those flares and unwittingly burned down a village in the process. We can’t punish them for any decisions made by ignorance and stupidity_.”

“ _Yet, one of them slaughtered eighteen of your people without provocation_ ,” Ragnar, ambassador of the Blue Cliff, made known _._

“ _And you all know that blood was met with blood on that_ ,” Lexa dictated, the blood reaching her face. Could the conversation end? “ _It wasn’t done as per tradition but the murderer’s blood was shed in exchange for the eighteen innocent people he killed_.”

 “ _Not only that, but you allowed them to vanquish our enemy when it could have been done by your hand_ ,” Ivan protested. “ _Just because relations are good between your people and those rats, that doesn’t mean that you should ignore the problems we are facing with them_.”

It was bothersome that five heads were nodding in agreement. Among them, the ambassadors of the Blue Cliff clan and the Broadleaf clan; a concept that was more disturbing. Lexa turned to Titus before turning her gaze at Anya.

Both of whom looking like they have different ideas of she should proceed. Lexa would know that Titus would want her to choose the aggressive approach while Anya would want her to choose a path that honored their agreement with the Sky People.

And Lexa knew what she would choose. Not just for her interests but for Clarke as well. Retracting her end of the truce would be a second betrayal. Something she couldn’t afford. For her relationship with Clarke was most likely on the rocks. From Lexa’s own doing.

“ _Very well_ ,” she said. “ _Evict this group from your clan’s territory and make it be known to them that if they don’t leave, it will cost them their lives_.”

Ivan looked like he swallowed a lemon. “ _What you’re suggesting is ludicrous, Commander_.” Spitting out her title in venom.

“ _It’s an order_ ,” Lexa hissed. “ _Unless you want me to extend Prince Roan’s banishment to another five years_.”

The Ice Nation ambassador went silent. Responding by only sitting down and leaning against his seat as he glared at her. “ _Good_ ,” Lexa continued. “ _Have someone send a message to the Sky People within your territory. I doubt that they will choose their lives over remaining in Ice Nation_.”

Though Lexa knew that there would be time where placating _Azgeda_ would be useless. That the day will come that _Ivan kom Azgeda_ ’s corpse will be on the pavement under the balcony window.

She had already pushed the Rock Line ambassador to his death two days ago after Polis scouts saw him conversing with the Ice Nation ambassador.

 

* * *

 

“ _You save who you can. It might not be easy but we can’t save everyone. There comes a time where people would have to save themselves_.”

Roan’s words from this morning repeated itself once more as she tried combating the headache from the hangover from last night’s drinking.

Save who she can. No, there had to be better options. She can’t sacrifice others to save select people. She didn’t have it in her. She couldn’t bear to sully her father’s memory. This wasn’t the Ark.

Then she remembered what Anya said to her mother when she overheard the two women arguing when they were at TonDC to burn the bodies of Finn and the eighteen people he killed.

 “ _You need to remember that you’re now on a literal death planet that has been ravaged by nuclear bombs. Though to be frank, Earth has been a death planet ever since the beginning of time. Even with the emergence of technology before its downfall_.”

The concept of Earth being a death planet since the dawn of time never actually occurred to her. That people have been killing each other for various reasons even with technology. Well, her and her peers did learn about two world wars and other gruesome events in the Earth’s history.

“You seemed to have a lot of anger in you regarding the Commander,” he observed as he removed a jar from one of the cabinets.

“She betrayed my people,” she explained as he approached the table with the jar in his hand. “Basically leaving us to die. There is a reason I don’t want to step foot into Polis, Roan.”

Though Clarke shouldn’t be surprised, it didn’t seem to take long for him to piece it together. “You think that if you step foot into Polis, you’ll kill her,” he observed as he sat beside her with the jar. The contents being ginger. Ginger was a homemade remedy for hangovers, if she remembered correctly.

Clarke nodded, acknowledging that he’s read her enough to figure that out. As if her drunken spiel last night wasn’t any indication.

“This anger you have towards her seems personal,” he postulated as he screwed opened the jar. “Sorry if I’m too bold, but from what I’m getting, she was more of an acquaintance to you before that.”

More of an acquaintance. “Well, we kissed before we set off to march towards Mount Weather,” Clarke admitted. Was there an attraction there? Yes. Probably because Clarke saw herself in the young woman. How they were both willing to do anything for their people. “But it was nothing more than just a simple attraction. I told her that I wasn’t ready for anyone else yet. Not after…”

Not after the death of the boy who shot up a village; killing unarmed eighteen people in her name.

“Would you kill her even if you had the chance?” he asked her.

Clarke thought about it. She placed herself in a situation where she was in the same room with Lexa. That there was a weapon in her hands. Let’s say a knife and that she placed it against her throat. Her heartbeat racing as she gazes into Lexa’s emerald irises while the knife was against her throat….

They say that some things were easier thought then done. Now that Clarke placed herself in a situation without the potent anger that came with thinking about Lexa since Mount Weather, this was one of them it seemed.

“No, now that I think about it,” she answered.

“You have a right to be angry,” he said. “Angry at her for leaving you. Though there comes a point where you can’t let that anger destroy you. You can understand a person’s decision while being upset about it at the same time.”

Roan wasn’t urging her to forgive Lexa but it reminded her of that conversation with her dead father in the Sky Box via a hallucination by Jobi Nuts. How her father urged her to forgive her mother. Clarke could argue that they were too different things. That it was because her mother was family and that she only knew Lexa for like two weeks.

Though the back of her mind told her that maybe it wasn’t a bad idea to understand while still being resentful.

“How? By putting myself in her shoes?” she asked him, having a basic idea what his answer might be.

“That’s not too terrible of an idea,” he observed. Positioning the spoon towards her mouth. “Open.”

Clarke opened her mouth and allowed him to put a spoonful of ginger in there. It was strong but she swallowed as she wanted to relieve her hangover.

Two hours later, the pair bundled up and gathered their few pieces of clothing to exchange for thick winter ones down at the trading post farm.

 The wind blew against her face as the snow crunched under them. The sun reflecting off of it. Clarke could only imagine the reaction to it back in Camp Jaha. For the younger inhabitants were most likely playing in the cold and fine dust.

Clarke swallowed before taking a deep breath. No, she can’t think too much of her people. It was getting painful.

“ _No bounty has been issued yet but it shouldn’t hurt to look_ ,” said one male voice as they walked into the room. Clarke froze in place before dusting her boots against the rug.

“ _Though I’m sure she might be difficult to find_ ,” Belinda coolly asserted to the man and his companion. Both of whom were six foot tall.

Roan swore under his breath, beating the boots on the rug.

“ _In that case, you might be wasting your time_ ,” Roan interjected as he walked forward to the counter. Despite fear filling her veins, Clarke followed him. As her hesitation might give it away. “ _Not to mention you would get stripped of your occupation for straying from a task in favor of something impossible_.”

Both men look at his direction and the one that spoke curled his lips into a smirk. “ _Why if it isn’t the banished prince_ ,” he leered. “ _On your way to chase someone_.”

“ _Enough with the idiocy, Farrel_ ,” Roan spat as he slammed his bag against the counter. “ _I’m merely exchanging garments_ _for the winter_.”

“ _In that case, Roan, go ahead_ ,” said Farrel. “ _Shouldn’t keep you waiting, your highness_.”

Clarke felt the blood reach her skin and moved towards the Grounder. Only for Roan to hold her back. “ _Clarke, no_ ,” he whispered. “ _Not now_.”

Though even if Roan didn’t want there to be a confrontation, that didn’t stop Clarke to want to storm over there and beat that bastard to a pulp for taunting Roan. All she could do was glare at Farrel as she set down her sack of clothing.

“ _Exchange these for winter garments_ ,” Clarke prompted as she and Roan spilled the contents of their sacks onto the counter.

“ _I think I can manage_ ,” Belinda said with a smile as she gathered the garments from the counter. Clarke tapped her fingers against the counter. Aware that she could feel Farrel’s gaze on her, though she did her best to ignore it.

“ _Well, Roan, I could see that you are doing pretty well considering the assets of your companion_ ,” he said. “ _How good is she?_ ”

Since this guy just met her, the meaning of those had to be sexual at worst. If that guy didn’t make her skin crawl. Instinctively, she grasped the handle of her knife with her hand.

“ _If you want your tongue, I suggest you shut up_ ,” Roan spat as Belinda was setting up crates of winter garments. Clarke and Roan began rifling through the crates, taking a few garments.

“ _Oh, you don’t want anyone else to tap her_ ,” Farrel said as Clarke threw wool undergarments into her bag. “ _Understandable. If another guy wanted to tap my bitch, I would render him impotent_.”

It only took mere seconds for Roan to pull out his knife and place it against the man’s throat. “ _Speak about her like that again, or I wouldn’t hesitate to castrate you_ ,” Roan threatened.

Tension filled every fiber as she watched the two men. Farrel gazed at her before turning back to Roan. “ _Fine, then_ ,” he sneered.

“ _Next time, watch your mouth if and when I see you_ ,” Roan warned, “ _because you would not like what happens to you if you step out of line_.”

Roan threw the last garment into his sack and when Clarke was finished, she felt Roan’s hand on her arm. The two of them rushing out of the building.

This was it. People were starting to look for her even without a bounty and this one guy seemed to have painted a target on her back.

It was going to come to the point that her mere presence was going to a danger to Roan. She was going to have to leave soon. For it might be safer for him if she’s on her own.

 

* * *

 

“Come on, you haven’t been outside the walls for like a month,” Raven said to Jasper. “I know that you have been getting cabin fever.”

“I think I would rather stay here,” he moaned as he finished off another shot of liquor. As they were no longer bound by the same restrictions of the Ark, it’s like Jasper used that as an opportunity to get his hands on liquor. There were some nights where he would pass out after drinking a whole bottle. Abby agonized that he might get cirrhosis of the liver if he kept this up, though Raven wished that she and Kane would do more to make sure he didn’t get a hold of more liquor.

A thought that she shared with Wells and Bellamy.

“I say you’re coming with me for a ride,” Raven persuaded with a smile as she pulled Jasper from his seat. He groaned and swore under his breath but he didn’t fight her off.  

Outside, it was obvious to Raven that there were people taking advantage of the presence of the sun in this winter season. For she saw the few kids from Arkadia building snowmen or doing various things with the snow. From her peripheral vision, she saw Wells and Bellamy exit one of the greenhouses that Lincoln helped set up.

She and her peers had a tutorial about year round greenhouses in Earth Skills and it seemed that the Grounders knew a thing or two as well. Anyway, they predictably would because they were literally descended from doomsday preppers.

“Heading somewhere?” Wells called out.

“Just taking Jasper for a ride,” Raven answered.

“Just don’t get stuck in the snow,” Bellamy chuckled. “We shouldn’t have to dig you out a snow drift.”

Raven chuckled in response. “I wouldn’t count on it, Bellamy.” If Raven was correct, Rovers were built specifically to maneuver through rough terrain.

As she opened the door on the driver’s side to the Rover, she could see that Jasper was dragging into the front passenger seat. Like he still wasn’t enthusiastic about it.

“Cheer up,” she encouraged, as he slammed the front passenger door. “You’re going to be glad that I took you out of Arkadia’s walls for a few hours.”

Raven revved up the engine; the gates opening to allow her access. In the times she drove the Rover, she had took the time to memorize each route that was recommended for her to take. Routes that didn’t have the risk of crashing into the walls of Grounder villages.

The vehicle moved over snowy terrain as she drove through the wintry landscape. Drinking in the sight of the snow coated pine trees. Something that Raven only saw in pictures until now. If Raven was certain, this part of the Earth was beautiful in the winter time.

After a while, Raven looked beside her, seeing that Jasper was looking out the window.

“Liking it or do you still wish that you were back at Arkadia?” she asked him.

Without turning away, he answered, “After years of seeing things like this in pictures, it looks better when actually seeing it.”

 _Guess it worked then_ , she thought.

 

* * *

 

“Has that guy done anything to ruffle your feathers?” Clarke asked him as she took out the sweet potatoes from the sack.

 _Not just to me but to other people_ , was his thought. It was like Farrel had a kink for wanting to provoke people. “When I first encountered him, he was one of the idiots that thought I was too soft for this lifestyle. That I wouldn’t last a week. After he saw me jump another for making the same asinine assumptions, he only backed off slightly. Though he liked referring me as a prince just to piss me off.”

As for that tendency to objectify companions of bounty hunters and others, like he had done with Clarke recently, it was another unfortunate aspect that made him repellent.

“He’s lucky that you stopped me from pulling a knife on him,” Clarke said as she began peeling a sweet potato.

“He’s lucky that I didn’t castrate him,” Roan pointed out as he unwrapped the cow meat. Reducing to Clarke to nothing but her physical anatomy and whether she was good in bed was enough to make his stomach curdle. How he wished he castrate him on the spot instead of just threatening to.

They didn’t talk for a minute as they prepared for last night’s dinner. “Perhaps, it will be safer if I leave tonight,” she said after a minute.

He barely lost his grip on the knife just as the words left her mouth. Dammit. Clarke wasn’t seriously…she couldn’t.

“You’re afraid of your safety after that bastard objectified you?” he demanded. “We’re never going to see him for a long time. He’s lodged all the way in _Trishanakru_ territory.”

“Not for my sake,” she argued, the blood reaching her face. “For _yours_ , Roan. When we stepped into the trading post in Belinda’s farm, he was talking about looking for someone even though there was no issued bounty yet. They were talking about me.”

Roan knew better not to chuckle, though he did it by impulse. He had heard others of fearing for their own lives but hearing her say that it was for his benefit. That was something new to hear.

“This isn’t funny, Roan,” she scolded.

“Clarke, it’s not like I’m susceptible to getting myself killed,” he pointed out to her. “I am a grown man capable of protecting myself if it ever came to that.”

“Everyone that I love and care about always gets hurt and killed,” she agonized. “My father died. My best friend could have gotten killed if it weren’t for another intervening. My friends and family had their bone marrow drilled and watched others suffer that fate. I can’t…I can’t put you in that type of danger, Roan. I just can’t.”

She dropped her potato and knife. Burying her face in her hands. He placed her hand on her shoulder, prompting her to gaze at him. “I don’t want to one to sugar coat things, but I doubt it will be easy to find you.”

“How could you be so sure?” she demanded.

“Your hair was pale blonde when I met you,” he answered. “ _Wanheda_ isn’t a red head. Also, they most likely have no clue what you look like. You are practically an enigma to them. Though it makes you feel better, you don’t have to show your face while we’re out looking for someone.”

She bit her lip, as she was debating how to weigh his words. Without saying anything, she left her chair and grabbed her overcoat. “I’m going to chop firewood,” she said. “We’re down to three halves anyway.”

When people exit themselves out of a conversation, it usually means they want to think in private. As he watched her passing through the door, he hoped she wouldn’t listen to the demons that were ruling her thoughts.

He held on his own for five years. He was able to care for himself. Though he wasn’t sure if he could handle it if she left. For she was the first person he had intimate companionship in five years.

            _Maybe_ , he thought, _I do love her_.

 

* * *

 

            In some of the books that she has read, it was usually the guy that told the girl that he was a danger to her. Mainly where the guy was some superhero or supernatural being. Never did she read a situation where the roles were reversed.

            Though it seemed like Clarke has become a real life example of that.

            Clarke picked up a piece of wood and placed it on the tree stump; picking up the axe before bringing the blade to the other end of the log. Even if Roan assured that he could take care of himself. That her appearance will not ring a bell, she didn’t want to give him the risk that she gave others.

            She lost and nearly lost everyone that she loved. She didn’t want Roan to be another name on that list. The fact that she now considered him among the people she…no. that couldn’t be true. She didn’t love him, did she? Maybe, but not romantically at least.

            Though, again, that’s what all people think regarding someone.

            She wasn’t aware of the minutes that passed as she chopped up the logs. Clarke was aware that she could smell the aroma of today’s lunch wafting from the cabin. The last lunch she will have with him.

            Clarke was going to leave tonight. She didn’t care what Roan said, for his safety was top priority.

            She had just decided to go back into the cabin when Clarke thought she heard Morrígan whine in distress. When she felt the sensation of spiders crawling up her back. That someone was behind her. Shivering and with goosebumps rising all over her skin, Clarke turned to see Farrel. That bounty hunter that she and Roan encountered an hour or two ago.

            He must have tracked their footprints on the snow.

            He smirked as he took a step forward. Clarke didn’t move, but she repositioned her axe in front of her.

            “ _Easy girl_ ,” he said, raising his hand up. “ _Nobody needs to get hurt_.”

            Everything from his tone to his word choice implied sinister intent. That he was going to do something to her regardless of whether she picked a fight or not.

            “ _Leave or I’ll kill you_ ,” Clarke threatened, with the axe shaking in her grip. Chills were running down her spine and she highly doubted that it was from the cold.

            The Grounder broke into a chuckle. One that grated against the nerves and was like a knife against a whetstone. One that unsettled her. “ _Tell yourself that, bitch_ ,” he jeered. “ _The two of us know that it’s going to end with me dragging you all the way back to Rock Line. Too bad your prince isn’t here to protect you_.”

            He stepped closer but Clarke refused to move. The blood resurfaced to her face and hands. She didn’t need Roan’s protection and for him to bring Roan up like that was completely unspeakable.

            “ _What clan are you from, girl?_ ” he asked.

            Clarke collected almost every ounce of salvia in her mouth and spat at him. For that was the only answer that he will get.

            Wiping his face with his hand, he said, “ _I thought so. You know, when you entered in that trading post back there, my gut was telling me that there was something different about you. Aside from trying to come in your friend’s defense and speaking our language, you were pretty reserved. Hurried out the door with him_.” He chuckled, unnerving her more. “ _I didn’t want to believe it but something tells me that you are the person they are talking about. So, what is your secret_ , _Wanheda_?”

            Blood pounding in her ears, Clarke looked towards the direction of the cabin. Not expecting for Roan to come out and save her but for him to be aware of the situation unfolding. Turning back her gaze to Farrel just in time as he lunged towards her.

            Clarke kneed him between the legs, knocking him down to the ground. Her initial thought was to land a kick in the nose but instead the blade of her axe meets his face.

            _Thrack! Thrack! Thrack!_

Clarke saw nothing but red as white hot rage filled her. Aware of nothing but hitting the axe against her would be attacker. Though she could feel something wet and sticky splattering against her face and neck.

            She raised the handle of her axe again when a hand grabbed her wrist in an iron grip.        


	13. Chapter Thirteen

            “Clarke, that’s enough!”

            Roan’s voice was another thing that brought her back to reality. She stumbled; light headed as the enraged haze had vanished from the facets of her consciousness. Clarke adjusted her vision to get a sense of her surroundings.

            When she observed what’s in front of her, Clarke gagged. Fighting desperately to prevent the impulse of vomiting.

            Lying before her feet was the mangled and bled out corpse of the bounty hunter that tried to take her from here against her will. Brains were spilling out of his skull and she could literally see his intestines through the wide gashes she made with the axe. His face, let’s just say it would be hard to identify him. It was no denying that blood was pooling around his body. Like gruesome paint was blotting itself on snow.

            It only took a few seconds to kick in what she had done. Her fingers violently shaking as she dropped the handle of the axe. Her breathing shallow as her ears rang. She had killed one of Anya’s warriors. She burned three hundred warriors in the Ring of Fire. She killed Finn so he wouldn’t have to suffer. She killed every single person from Mount Weather.

            But this. This was overkill.

            Her knees buckled and she could feel Roan’s arms around her before she could collapse. “Clarke, it’s okay,” he said.

            “Don’t touch me,” she choked, trying to get off of him with little to no success. Her hands and her torso were sticky and warm yet there were some tough solids as well. Farrel’s blood and brains.

            “We’re going to get you cleaned up,” he said.

            This time, Clarke didn’t fight. She allowed him to pick her up off her feet and carry her to the cabin. Though her eyes lingered on horror show that was displayed in the back; the blood still pounding in her ears and fingertips.

            Her feet touched the wooden floors of the cabin when he set her down and he was grumbling under his breath to get water for a bath when she stared at the mirror above the water basin. The girl staring back at her was drenched with blood. Half of her face was drenched, with blood splattered on her fur laden overcoat. With bits of brains on her face and clothes.

            There was no denying that the girl in the reflection was her. Though Clarke desperately wished that it wasn’t. Roan and others will tell her that she done it self-defense. That she did what she had to do. Regardless, this guy was just another life that she took upon landing on the ground.

            It was when she undressed herself for the bath when her mind flew towards whatever consequences might occur from this. The man that was with the guy she killed will no doubt go searching for him. Follow his trail to see his bloody and mangled corpse on the blood drenched snow.

            He will no doubt send for someone. Probably warriors from Polis as that’s where bounty hunters go to claim a bounty and bring a criminal they caught. What would they do to Roan? Extend his banishment? Execute him for murder of another bounty hunter?

            They are going to think it was him that did it since she wouldn’t be the most likely suspect. What would happen to her though? Most likely they will take her to Polis where no doubt Lexa would recognize her. Either keeping with her or sending her back to Camp Jaha.

            Two options that Clarke wanted to avoid. Though knowing Lexa, it will be the latter at Anya’s behest.

            She gazed back at him as he washed her face with a red cloth. Concentrating her gaze on his blue eyes. Even if briefly when she closed her own eyes as he wiped the area near them. For looking at his eyes distracted her from the water in the basin that was becoming bloody every time he rung the rag.

            Clarke inhaled deeply before exhaling. “What are we going to do when they come for him?” she asked as he paid attention to her neck. “No doubt that Farrel’s friend is going to come looking for him. Track him here and find the bloody aftermath.”

            Roan turned his gaze back to her before resuming his task of cleaning off the blood. “Nothing most likely,” he answered.

            His answer stumped her. “Nothing?” she asked. “They are going to think it was you. And what’s going to happen if you don’t think they will do anything?”

            “If they think it’s me, it’s going to be written off as the bloody result of a dispute gone wrong,” he answered. “He had a reputation for ruffling feathers. Doing and saying things that he knew would incite anger. If they investigate, they are going to hear the shit he pulled back there and all they would wonder was why it never happened sooner. So, don’t worry about impending consequences that are not going to happen.”

            Even if it relieved her that no punishment will follow, the incident still rattled her brain.

When Roan turned his attention to her hair, she recoiled.

            “Let me wash it this once,” he offered. “I need to get the blood off.”

            “And how am I going to apply berries again in this time of year?” she demanded. It was winter and from her observation, there were no berry bushes to be found. Though it was a radioactive planet but still…

            “I got that covered,” he maintained.

            Not wanting to argue and knowing that she could trust him, she complied. Allowing him to run another rag through her hair. He wasn’t gentle but he wasn’t rough either. It reminded Clarke of how her mother would scrub her hair back in childhood. Thorough.

            When he was finished, Clarke picked up one of her locks of hair. Observing that it has gone back to her natural blonde shade; though she could see streaks of pink remaining from the berries.

            Roan gave her a blanket to dry off and as she did, she saw him remove a sack from the crate. “I went to trade some trading trinkets for a basket of berries a week ago,” he divulged. “Something told me that maybe it was best.”

            “Intuition, perhaps?” she inquired, as he placed it on the table.

            “Maybe, but I thought that there might be time where you would want to wash your hair without worrying about the work to find berries,” he answered. “Seems like you found the excuse to.”

            _Though we never thought it would be these circumstances_ , she thought. She dressed herself in the second pair of trousers and a shirt; as the bloodied clothing were thrown into the fire.

           

* * *

 

             “The last time Ice Nation was this brazen, was five years ago before the ceasefire,” Indra explained as Marcus Kane poured hee a cup of sparkling water.

            “Suppose they found an excuse to?” Marcus supposed as he set down the bottle before taking a sip from his own cup.

            Indra didn’t seem to shove that possibility away. “It has been rumored that their queen was looking for an excuse to undermine the Commander after that ultimatum,” she said. “Seems your people taking down the Mountain was the candidate.”

            And probably gave some of the Grounders the excuse to resent his people for it. Which Marcus would understand. _Trikru_ did give up taking Mount Weather on after a few failed attempts. Only for their former enemies, Marcus’s own people, to bring them down. It probably made them feel weak.

            As much as he admired that the _Trikru_ were giving them sanctuary to their territory and allowing them to live off their land after the Mountain’s fall, it wasn’t fair to them for they might get the brunt of the Ice Nation Queen’s wrath. Even if they could handle themselves in war.

             “With all due respect, I don’t want your people to get the brunt of Ice Nation’s wrath for protecting us when it comes down to it,” he vocalized. “It wouldn’t be fair.”

            Indra curled her lips into a smile. “There is no need for concern,” she assured him. “We will hold up against them like we have in the past, if it ever comes to war. For the Commander’s sake, I hope it doesn’t.”

            Indra wasn’t completely wrong. For the Coalition was to be held together by the incumbent Commander. If _Azgeda_ declared war and succeeded, the Commander would fall. If the Commander falls, then the Coalition falls.

            For his people’s sake, he didn’t want it to happen. His past self would scold him for putting faith in a mere, young girl. That it was foolish and blind but this wasn’t six months ago. He wasn’t the same man that pushed for his best friend’s execution and for his best friend’s daughter’s incarceration. He wasn’t the same man who pushed for the Culling. He wasn’t the same man who went by cold and hard logic rather than his gut.

            That man started to dissolve after Raven first made contact with the Ark and that man died on the day he lost his mother to the bomb on Unity Day. And Marcus didn’t even mourn for the death of his old self.

            There was no need to.

            _Knock! Knock! Knock!_

            “You can come in,” he encouraged as Indra turned to the attention to the door. The handle turned and there was Lincoln; standing at the doorway.

            “Abby told me to tell you that the recent hunting party came back,” he started and before Marcus could ask why it seemed like casual information, Lincoln continued, “Wounded.”

            His eyes widened. Wounded? “Who or what,” he demanded.

            “It better not be one of us that did this,” Indra asserted. “Though I wouldn’t put it past a select group of Tristan’s rangers that are being monitored for being overzealous. If that is the case, I’ll speak with him.”

            “It wasn’t _Trikru_ ,” Lincoln replied gravely. “One of the victims, Neville, said that the attackers had white painted on their faces.”

            At this, Indra dropped her cup of water and Marcus’s own grip of his cup had gone slack. White war paint.

            Ice Nation.

 

* * *

 

With the ground hardening, the only choice that Roan had was cremate the remains of that bastard. Even if the odor would reek and span for hundreds of miles.

            Then again, Farrel would still be alive if he didn’t make the stupid decision on attempting to capture Clarke. Well, he wanted _Wanheda_ and it appeared that he got what he had coming. Farrel wasn’t the brightest tool in the shed, if Roan remembered correctly.

            He shoveled a pile of snow over the bloodstained patch. Making sure to conceal the mess before heading back to the direction of the door. Stopping for a moment to give Morrígan her horse feed and stroking her mane before entering the cabin.

            Clarke was sitting at the table. Quietly eating her soup, though she stopped and turned her head to see him come in. It was hours ago that she used the berries to change the color of her hair, for it was red again instead of that pale blonde.

            “You took care of it?” she rasped as he ladled some of the soup into a bowl.

            “Ground is getting hard,” he disclosed as he sat next to her. “He’ll disintegrate faster with cremation, so that’s what I chosen.”

            “Ok,” she murmured before continuing to eat her soup. Clarke has been silent ever since she killed that bastard. It was as if that experience wore her down. Like it was nothing to be proud of. As if his death was just another that was heaped on her shoulders.

            “Hey.” He turned her face towards his with his fingertips. “You did what you had to do to protect yourself. Otherwise…”

            Roan trailed off. For he didn’t want to think about what that bastard would have done to Clarke aside from taking her by force. Especially since he objectified her hours earlier.

            Clarke nodded. Though her shoulders were still bowed. “Yes, but I didn’t have to kill him that way,” she trembled. “That was…too much.”

            “You want to hear about the time where I myself did an overkill?” he asked her, in an attempt to make her feel less weighed down. So she wouldn’t overburden herself.

            “You think that will make me feel better?” she demanded, her face turning red.

            “I just don’t want to be hard on yourself,” he pointed out. “To not overburden yourself  with everything that you have done. You shouldn’t have to carry that weight alone. For it needs some support.”

            She paused, as if recollecting her thoughts. “A friend of mine, the one who pushed the lever with me, told me something similar before I left,” she recollected. “That I shouldn’t have to carry that weight alone.”

            “Then he must be a good friend that you had,” he stated.

            She nodded before pondering her soup and taking a spoonful. He had to take her mind off of that gruesome display that happened this afternoon. Even if it was temporary.

            “Now,” he started as he disappeared into the bedroom. “Last night, I accidentally knocked your sketchbook to the floor.”

            He picked it up and returned to the main room with it. Watching Clarke’s gaze to it as he approached her. “Your drawings are good though there is one that stood out.”

            Roan took out the folded sketch of himself from the back of the sketchbook. Unfolding it before handing it to her. Her cheeks turned beet red, though her blue eyes flickered to him like she was hoping that he didn’t see.

            “Um, yeah,” she stammered, still blushing furiously. “A woke up from a nightmare a couple nights ago and I wanted to keep myself occupied. I didn’t think of anything, so I drew you. I hope that you are not creeped out.”

            He chuckled, knowing full well that he felt the opposite. “To be honest, I feel flattered actually,” he admitted. “It’s a good likeness of me.”

            Clarke chuckled and even if he alleviated her spirits, he had a feeling that it would only be temporary.

 

* * *

 

            “ _You shouldn’t have to carry that weight alone. For it needs some support._ ”

“ _You don’t have to do this alone_.”

            Different words from two different men in her life. Yet they both had the same meaning: that she shouldn’t carry the weight of everyone that she had killed on her shoulders. Finn, Mount Weather, Farrel. Whose blood was on her hands and deaths that Clarke regretted.

Even if they were done for the safety of her people and herself.

Yet, it didn’t seem to quell the ever nagging fear that everyone she loved was put at risk. What Roan didn’t know was that this afternoon’s bloody confrontation with that bounty hunter gave her more reason to leave.

Even if there was no bounty out yet, people were out looking for her; for they thought she could master death. It would be safer for him if she took off.  That way his life wouldn’t be endangered too.

She tried blinking the tears away as she caressed his face with her hand. Bending down to kiss him even before leaving the bed. Trying to control her tears as she pushed her feet into her boots before taking her sketchbook. Yet, she placed the sketch of him on her side of the bed so he can have something to remember her by.

When she walked out of the gates of Camp Jaha, the pain was like a knife digging into her heart. For some reason, it wasn’t like the pain she was feeling now. As if pieces of her body were being torn away from her slowly.

The heart pounding in her chest as she opened the cabinets and drawers to pack some food. Though not too much that he would be short. She can hunt; Clarke knew how.

She slung her bag over her shoulders and picked up her quiver and arrow. With her fingers on the door handle, Clarke looked around the room, exhaling sharply. For a month, she’s resided here. Ate here and slept here when she would have slept in trees and caves if she was alone.

Roan provided her sanity for a month. Now she was ready to go on her own.

Clarke shut the door behind her. Her boots touching the old wooden steps of the place that was home for a month before the soles of her boots crunched under the snow. Snow was falling softly from the dark nighttime sky.

Home. It used to mean Camp Jaha, with her mother, Wells, and Bellamy. Though it seemed that home had a different definition. That it had an expanded meaning now. For it seemed that she found her home with _him_ as well.

“ _Hey, girl_ ,” she addressed Morrígan, stroking her nuzzle. “ _I know it’s late, but we have to go.  It’s safer for him this way._ ”

Clarke swallowed as she put her feet to one of the stirrings –

“What are you doing?” she heard him demand from behind her.

She turned to see him standing on the porch. The dim candles inside casting light against his features.

“Go back inside, Roan,” she choked, feeling the tears streaming down her cheeks. Feeling as if someone was slowly peeling away at her heart.

He descended down the steps. Ignoring her plea as he approached her.

“If you think I will let you leave because you fear you’re a danger to me, you are mistaken,” he asserted. “You can’t just walk away from people because you feel like your presence puts a target on their backs. My life isn’t in any more danger because of you.”

“It is,” she maintained, her vision blurring with tears. “You don’t understand. When I’m around, everyone that I love dies and gets hurt because of me. I lost my father. I almost lost my best friend and my mother. And I can’t…” she breathed shallowly. Trying to control the onslaught of emotions caused by her mutilating heart. “I can’t lose you too, Roan.”

Her knees buckled and she collapsed. She allowed the gut wrenching sobs to overtake her body. For her tears was all that she was aware of.

Though she was dimly aware of hearing his footsteps approach her before feeling his arms wrap around her. Enfolding her in his arms.

“Clarke, I’m going to be okay,” he assured as he rocked her back and forth. “We’re going to be okay.”

“How?” she demanded. “People like Farrel are looking for me. Like I’m some type of shiny and elusive object that they want as their trophy.”

“What we have been doing for a month,” he insisted. “We will take care of each other.”

Though assuring, doubt didn’t seem to dissipate from Clarke’s mind. “It’s just that,” she breathed. “I would have survived on my own without your help but you…you have kept my sanity in the past month. I wasn’t alone. I had you. And because of that, I can’t afford to lose you too. I love you.”

The last three words escape from her mouth before she could think to keep them contained. Realizing the weight that those words carried. The ramification. The last time she told someone she loved them, she mercy killed that person.

Though this was a completely different circumstance; as the other person wasn’t on the verge of dying. As the other person had more in common with her then Finn ever did. As this person knew her for what she really was. Even if it’s been a month.

Perhaps she did love him romantically. Maybe it transcended beyond that.

Though Clarke wasn’t sure if he felt the same way. Sure, he acted jealous that one time but that didn’t necessarily mean that he was in love with her. Yet, she did hope that he had felt the same way.

“I love you,” she repeated, tears pricking her eyes once more as she cupped his face with her hands. Glancing at his blue eyes before glancing to his lips. Though she was sure that his eyes were glancing at her own lips as well.

Their lips melded together as the snow fell on them. Unlike the kisses from before, which stemmed from the nights of no-strings attached passion, this time, it was like her heart took flight. Like a piece of her soul found its matching piece.

Clarke never believed in soulmates, though they do say that snow and sky were familiar friends.

Their lips part, though her forehead was still nestling against his. “I love you, too, Clarke,” he confessed.

If she had the motivation to leave, it was like it was sapped away from her. For she collapsed in his arms and broke into sobs.

She already did it once. Leaving her family and friends for she feared that seeing them would remind her of the gruesome aftermath of Mount Weather.

Though, right at this moment, she couldn’t bring herself to leave him. Even if she had the motivation and plan to leave, right now she couldn’t find them. They have disappeared moments after they came.

For this was more painful than the first time around.

She needed him, just like he needed her. For it was like he became another piece of her.

 She and Finn didn’t quite fit together. Like they were two puzzle pieces not meant to fit. If the previous month was by any indication, she had found the other piece that fit.

Making her feel whole.

 

* * *

 

Bellamy sat up in bed. Gasping for breath. The image of his hand over Clarke’s as they pushed the lever, watching the people slowly cook to death in the Mess Hall, and the gruesome aftermath had all replayed in his mind. And it didn’t help that those images were accompanied by the memory of being locked in a cage that had sitting room only.

They were like a broken record. Playing over and over again. Even if he was mentally crying in agony for it to stop, they came back to haunt him. The Culling stabbed him in the stomach but Mount Weather was one that cut into him piece by piece.

He shook his head. Hoping to be cleansed of those images though it was a long shot. For those memories were branded in his mind. He could go get a glass of water or milk to soothe his nerves.

Though he wondered if that would be enough, for those images might plague his mind again if he went back to sleep.  The thing he needed right now was company.

He could go over to Octavia’s compartment. Though it would be awkward with Lincoln there. There is one place he could go instead. Someone that was able to listen.

He kept his breathing even as he crossed the dimly lit corridors from his section to the other. His feet making sticky sounds on the metal floor.

When Bellamy was in front of Gina’s door, he took a deep breath before knocking three times. Stepping back moments later.

It only took a minute for her to respond. There she stood; with her brown curls spilling over her shoulders.

“Is everything okay?” she asked him.

“Mind if I come in?” he rasped.

With a nod, she opened the door wider. Closing it behind him after he entered.

It didn’t hurt to realize that something good can come out of this relationship. That he’ll have someone to count on when the going gets rough for him.

 

* * *

 

Roan never believed in the concept of soul mates. It was illogical. That people were merely together because of the choices that they make rather than by fate. Though, however, snow and sky were not alien with each other.

She had fallen from the sky like snow itself. Yet fierce as winter.

 Their kiss last night was different from the other kisses that they shared. One of fleeting love rather than lustful passion. Their real first kiss, it could be coined as.

When she said that she loved him, he could tell that she meant it by her eyes. There was an honesty there, as well as some hopefulness. Hopefulness that she hoped that he would reciprocate. Even if the situation was hopeless itself.

And the fact that he loved her back was truth itself. To be honest, he never felt this love for Echo when they were together.

While he loved Echo, she was bound by the rules and expectations set on her by his mother. She saw things from his mother’s point of view and even if she tried to understand what he was thinking, she never grasped the situation. Never grasped how he really felt.

Clarke, though, wasn’t bound by what his mother wanted her to think. Perhaps it was good that she wasn’t of _Azgeda_ , for she saw things with her own lens. Not one that his mother supplied others.

He had more in common with Clarke then he did with Echo: from their lost fathers, issues with their mothers (though his was worse than hers), and being separated from their people albeit in different circumstances.

“Sorry if those words weren’t said in the right circumstances,” she apologized the next morning as they lay in bed. “It’s just…my mind wasn’t in the right place.”

“Though you meant it,” he pointed out to her as he ran his fingers through her hair. “Your eyes didn’t lie.”

Clarke faintly smiled. “Yes, though I didn’t know…well. How you would take it,” she said.

“Because we had sex a week after we met?” he asked. It would make sense why she might have second guessed herself for that reason. For love and sexual attraction were two different things. Yet, Moira didn’t live with him for a month when they slept together a couple years back.

“From what I read, Friends with Benefits only have a fifteen percent chance of becoming romantic,” she sent on. She grinned as she continued, “Then there’s that ten year age gap between us.”

The way she said her last sentence indicated that she didn’t see a problem with that. Personally, he never saw it problematic either.

“That whopping ten year age gap can be a problem,” he teased. “Likewise, rest assured that my interest in you is more than just sex.”

“Good, because I was getting worried for a moment,” she beamed before kissing him softly on the lips.

Minutes later, when they were prepping for breakfast, he suggested, “Since we’re not due to catch anyone soon, hopefully you wouldn’t be against resuming combat training.”

For some reason, he felt the blood reach his cheeks. _Why am acting like some boy with a crush?_ he accused himself. _I’m better than this_.

“In this cold?” she giggled as she cut up a slab of ham.

“I have practiced in colder weather then this, Clarke,” he pointed out. “Is everyone that fell from the sky warm blooded as you, Snowflake?”

“That’s too much of an assumption,” she accused.

Roan didn’t regret going after her the previous night. For he never knew how much he craved close human companionship after virtually five years.

 

* * *

 

“So, this is the one…?” Queen Nia asked of her prisoner. Gesturing to the blonde girl standing next to Lexa on the photograph they took from his pack.

“Yes,” he nodded. “Clarke Griffin of the Sky People. She murdered every living person in Mount Weather.”

Nia turned her large golden pendant in thought. Analyzing the photograph once more. The fact that the Commander and this Clarke were standing so close to each other was enough to curl her lips into a smirk. She initially assumed that the little bitch learned her lesson when she sent her that decoy head to make her believe that her precious lover was dead. Seems like she didn’t.

“It appears then that these rumors are true,” she surmised. “That _Klark kom Skaikru_ and _Wanheda_ are the same person. It appears I was an idiot for dismissing it.” She turned towards her prisoner; her feet echoing against the wooden floors as she approached him.

            “From what I hear, it appears that you want something,” she continued. “What could I possibly give you, Mountain Man?”

            He looked grim. “All I want is for that bitch to pay for what she did,” he seethed. “I want Clarke to feel what my children felt, what my wife felt when she senselessly burned them alive from the radiation.”     

            Revenge. It was easy to exploit, for he happened to fit a piece of the puzzle that she was putting together to bring _Heda Leska kom Trikru_ down. Her ambassador was already doing the work of swaying the other eleven ambassadors to defect from her (actually, it was ten as the _Trikru_ Ambassador was infallibly loyal to Lexa), though she needed something stronger than that.

            Someone passed on the idea that you acquire their essence and power when you kill them; a belief that spanned a few clans, even if it had its skeptics. All she would need to do was kill _Wanheda_ ; to gain her power of death. The ability to command death. Possessing such a power would definitely stir a reaction from the masses. The other clans, including _Skaikru_ , would no doubt bend their knees to her. Submit to her unless they want her wrath. Though the most appealing concept would be poor Lexa’s reaction at the sight of her second lover’s corpse being delivered.

Lexa would be seen as weak for her reaction. And no doubt that people would be calling for her head. With Lexa dead, she could have her son back in her possession and give the Coalition a Commander that would put _Azgeda_ first.

“Very well,” Nia sent on. “I shall give you your wish. However, I want you to give me information in case we have to use it to our advantage.”

To get _Wanheda_ would require a bounty, though it was smart to wait until when the end of the first month of the upcoming year. Best to give Lexa a false sense of security until then.

Doing things consecutively wasn’t fun as spacing things out. For she savored watching people squirm in fear of her next move.

 _Wanheda_ and the last living Mountain Man were the final pieces to her twisted game of chess.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically starts at 3x01: “Wanheda – Part 1”.

The experience was unreal. In Thelonious Jaha’s memory, he had only seen a city such as this from surviving photographs; film reels. To actually be virtually standing in a city like this was euphoric. Something from a dream.

            “Incredible,” he breathed. “Just like the time before.”

            “I went through different city templates from the past for an ideal model,” A.L.I.E. stated. “What you are standing in is the virtual recreation of the city of Vancouver, British Colombia circa 2016.”

            “Vancouver,” he breathed. A.L.I.E. couldn’t have picked a better city model, for all the cities that existed prior to the bombs, the architecture of Vancouver, B.C mesmerized him the most. “When do you want me to start?”

            “According to my calculations, now would be the best time,” the A.I. answered. “We only have until seven months to upload everyone’s mind to the City of Light before most of the Earth becomes uninhabitable.”

            He nodded, understanding that they don’t have much time. Soil was gradually worsening overtime with some areas already in famine. Animals on the land were beginning to die off and in a month or two the fish will be next. Then it will be a matter of time before the black rain comes and after that, most of the Earth will be scorched. There was no denying that for the data was in front of him.

            The lives of his son; the lives of his friends like Abby and Marcus were hanging in the balance. This was better this way. Even when they die, their minds would still be alive in the City of Light.

            “I think it’s time to unlock the lighthouse bunker,” he proposed. For John Murphy will be the first person to approach.

 

* * *

 

            “ _Easy now, girl_ ,” grumbled their captive as Clarke adjusted his restraints so his hands were in front of his torso. “ _Don’t overwork yourself, now_.”

            Clarke gave a shrug. “ _I appreciate the concern_ ,” she chimed in sarcastically. “ _But it’s misplaced_.”

            “ _And someone needs to shut up after his drink of water_ ,” Roan grumbled as he stuck the cloth between the man’s teeth as Clarke turned her attention to the man’s feet. Loosely binding them together so he could walk.

            The sky was a dark blue when they exited the cave. Morning but still the hour where people were asleep in bed. Where she and Roan would have been if they didn’t have to track this murderer all the way in Rock Line for almost an entire week.

            Then again, she had grown used to helping Roan capture fugitives over the course of three months. Three months. Three months away from her family and friends. Three months residing in Blue Cliff territory and catching fugitives; living with a Grounder and living like one.

            Heck, she could even pass for one. She was fluent in their language. And she was able to get the hang of sword fighting and hand-to-hand combat. It wasn’t perfect but she knew enough in order to defeat her opponent. Roan was still far ahead of her when it came to experience. That was the only irritating thing regarding their ten year age difference.

            A part of her wanted to return to Camp Jaha. That those three months had been a long time to be parted from her mother; from Bellamy, Wells, Raven, Monty, and Jasper. Yet there was another part that wanted to give it another few months to come back, for she was content with her current situation.

            Though the latter was more because she didn’t feel ready to see them again. Clarke wasn’t ready to face her mother’s and friends’ disappoint and possible anger for her leaving them without telling and knowing her destination. For all they know, they’d think that she abandoned them after all that they been through before Mount Weather.

            She was one of the three that led the hundred. Leaders don’t abandon their people.

            When she and Roan reached the vicinity of their traditional rendezvous point, she pecked his cheek, whispering, “ _Now don’t get held up_.”

            “ _You know I can’t make promises, Snowflake_ ,” he quipped, turning to peck her lips. “ _See you soon_.”

            She smiled and shook her head as she watched him part from her. Clarke tugged Morrígan to another direction; leaving her next to a nearby tree as to make a trap for any small animal that came passing by.

            If there was anything that Clarke remembered from Earth Skills, it was that squirrels were attracted to hickory nuts and corn.

 

* * *

 

            Lexa bit her lip as she watched the sun rise above the horizon. Drawing in her breath deeply before letting it out.

            It had been three months since she made the fateful decision of taking that deal; since she made the mistake of leaving Clarke and _Skaikru_ behind at Mount Weather. A mistake that is costing her effectiveness in her leadership, according to Titus.

            “The Ice Nation Queen has issued a bounty on _Wanheda_ about a week ago,” Titus informed her last night. “She’s offering a desirable place among her court for anyone who takes Clarke to her. For the sake of your effectiveness, I suggest you put a bounty on her yourself. No one would question you again if you kill her and take her power.”

            It was predictable that Titus didn’t understand the weight of the situation. For killing Clarke to be the next _Wanheda_ was easier said than done. Clarke was more valuable to her alive then dead.  

            There were other two bounties for Clarke, though; one from Glowing Forest and from the Lake People. Though both bounties didn’t seem worrisome, as upon investigation, they merely wanted Clarke among their warriors. The bounty from Ice Nation, was worrisome, for Nia would do the same thing to Clarke like she did Costia

            She had to do something. To make sure she was kept away from _Azgeda_ hands. Lexa could find Clarke herself, though that would be dangerous. For people would see it as another example of her weakness. Lexa thought about recruiting Clarke’s friends for the task; like Bellamy Blake. He wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to save his friend. Yet, that also was an operation that was too dangerous. Though, she did tell Titus last night to inform her if any bounty hunters arrived. One of them was bound to find her.

            _Knock! Knock!_

            “ _Come in_ ,” Lexa encouraged. The door opened and she turned to see that it was Anya. Yet the sight of her former mentor’s presence wasn’t enough to make her smile. “ _Any developments?_ ” she croaked.

            “ _Just that bounty from the previous week_ ,” she answered, stepping closer. “ _Tristan and I are thinking of meeting with the generals from the other clans to allow us to have our rangers look for her. Take her here and bring her home_.”

            Lexa scoffed. “ _That’s going to take time_ ,” she insisted. “ _The more we wait, the more odds Nia has of seizing her. I can’t afford that mistake. I need someone who could do it without worrying about jurisdiction_.”

            “ _That would be a bounty hunter, Lexa_ ,” Anya pointed out. “ _I wouldn’t make that mistake. In fact, Titus and others feel like you’re making mistakes that are costing your strength and your effectiveness as the Commander_.”

            “ _What if I’m meant for this happen?_ ” she demanded. “ _What if appearing weak and losing my touch is punishment for betraying Clarke and the Sky People? I left her to die. I left them to die. I violated our ethical code_.”

            “ _Lexa, only you, I, Tristan, and a few knew what happened_ ,” Anya tried to assure. “ _That parasite didn’t give us any of a choice. It was to save all of our people or lose the ones that were imprisoned. Taking that deal saved countless of Trikru. You yourself told me that you had faith in Clarke to get herself out of that situation_.”

            “ _Yes, but I expected her to make a deal with Cage_ ,” Lexa pointed out. “ _I didn’t expect her to annihilate every living person in that Mountain and walk away from her people after that. Choice or no choice, I still betrayed our allies. If I faked that deal and remained with Clarke, she wouldn’t be in danger from the Ice Nation_.”

            Anya was about to speak when the door opened. “ _Three bounty hunters have arrived in Polis with their catches_ ,” Titus informed her as he entered the room.

            “ _Can you identify them?_ ” she asked, her interest peaked.

            “ _Oriana, Roan, and Beyven_ ,” he answered promptly.

            It was the second name that caught her attention. Prince Roan. That’s it! He was perfect for that task. Skills wise, she heard he was good at picking up cues from fugitives and had a ninety-eight percent success rate. Also, there was something that she could offer him that he would no doubt not pass up.

            Though it would be temporary, lifting Roan’s banishment and sending him home will pacify Nia for a time.

            “ _Have Wight find Roan and send him to me_ ,” she ordered.

            “ _Commander_ ,” Anya said in protest, like the idea was unthinkable.

            “ _I know what I’m doing, Anya_ ,” Lexa dictated.

            On second thought, she should send Indra to inform _Skaikru_ about the bounty on Clarke’s head. To help them find her as to protect her interests in case Roan doesn’t succeed.

 

* * *

 

            _“Took you long enough_ ,” grumbled _Rafael kom Trishankru_ as two _Trishankru_ took the fugitive from Roan’s hands. “ _What did he do?_ ”

            “ _Ran all the way to Rock Line territory_ ,” Roan sent on. It was the first time in five years that it took almost a week to find that bastard. Took both him and Clarke to tackle him as well. Roan would be damned if there was another notice waiting; for he and Clarke might need almost a week to recuperate before given another task.

            Rafael shrugged. “ _Why does it not surprise me_ ,” he muttered. He turns to the young boy in the room. “ _Ilian, give the man his reward_.”

            “ _That might have to wait_ ,” a new voice pitched in. Roan turned to see that the speaker happened to be one of the Commander’s guards. Evident on the garb he wore. “ _The Commander requests audience with you, Roan_.”

            Roan couldn’t help but let out a dry chuckle. Why would the Commander care to have an audience with him? He would rather get his bounty and leave. That way he could meet with Clarke on schedule so they could return back to Blue Cliff territory.

            Though he knew better not to ignore the Commander’s order to meet with her; as when she wanted your audience, it wasn’t a request. Roan grumbled under his breath as he followed the man out of the _Trishanakru_ Embassy and through the _Trishanakru_ Quarter towards the center of Polis.

            Why could the Commander want an audience with him after five years? Surely, nothing changed regarding his banishment from home, did it? As that would be the reason she would speak with him again, she said five years ago. He wasn’t in Polis for too long on his visits but he heard a few whispers that the Commander was at odds with the queen again.

            He hoped that his mother didn’t do anything stupid, as it would be him that Lexa would punish.

            He twiddled his thumbs as the lift took him and the Commander’s guard took him up. A knot forming in his stomach at the thought of Clarke waiting in the trading post; wondering about this whereabouts. Whatever the Commander wanted, he hoped it was quick, for keeping Clarke worried was the last thing he wanted to do.

            After what seemed like a while, the lift stopped and Roan allowed his companion to open the lift door before proceeding out. His feet echoing against ancient carpet.

            His guard found the door he was looking for and knocked three times.

            “ _Come in_ ,” Lexa encouraged.

            Entering the room, Roan couldn’t help but feel a sense of foreboding. As the last time when he spoke to Lexa regarding the conditions of his banishment five years ago, she was sitting down and in the process of eating a meal.

            “ _Have a seat, Roan_ ,” she prompted, not looking away from her plate.

            The door closed behind him and he dragged himself to her table. “ _So, what is the reason you summoned me?_ ” he asked as he sat across from her. “ _I don’t think that anything has changed regarding my status_.”

            “ _No, that’s not why you are here_ ,” she stated as her eyes turned to him.

            “ _Funny, because last time I spoke with you, you said that the next time you would speak with me if there were would be any changes_ ,” he drawled. “ _That was five years ago_.”

            “ _Yes, but times have changed_ ,” she publicized. “ _From what I hear from the liaison, you are excellent at picking up cues when it comes to fugitives. That you have a ninety-eight percent success rate_.”

            He snorted. He was good when it came to hunting fugitives. He wasn’t going to deny that. Though he didn’t know what that had anything to do with why Commander Lexa wanted to speak with him.

            In fact, why did she want to see him?

            “ _You want something from me, do you?_ ” he asked her.

            “ _I have a task to give you_ ,” she answered. “ _An important one_.” She reached into her pocket of her trousers; producing a small cloth. “ _I am certain that you are aware of a rumor about someone they call the Commander of Death. Or Clarke of the Sky People. Your Queen has a bounty on her since last week_.”

            Clarke. She’s talking about Clarke. However, it was the fact that his mother sent a bounty on Clarke that sent chills down his spine. Roan was aware of two other bounties. Both of which from clans that wanted her in their arsenal. Both not as threatening as the one from his mother.

He had to play coy. Act like never even met her.

            “ _Yes_ ,” he scoffed. “ _A few times. Not that I have any intention of hunting her down myself_.”

            Lexa pushed the cloth in front of him. Slowly, he picked it up with his fingers. The woman in the picture no doubt resembled her. Why he’d be damned. He didn’t need to ask why the Commander was approaching him with this.

            She wanted him to look for her.

            “ _I am afraid you’ll have to_ ,” Lexa continued. “ _Of the candidates, you were the only one that seemed to be the promising person to execute this_.”

            There was something about her demeanor that suggested that there was more to this then just his skills. Lexa had something to offer.

            “ _What do I get in return if I bring her to you?_ ” he asked.

            “ _If you bring her to me safe and unharmed, I will lift your banishment_ ,” she answered. “ _Therefore allowing you to return home five years earlier_.”

            Home. She said that she would lift his banishment if he brought Clarke to her. The image of home came to mind: the mountains, the Falls, the White Forest surrounding Gara…everything that he missed about _Azgeda_

            However, his ticket home seemed to be at Clarke’s expense. Something he didn’t expect. True, it was a strong desire of his to go back home but he didn’t want to throw Clarke under the bus in the process. She wasn’t enraged at Lexa as she was months ago last time he remembered but she still would have associated her with what happened at Mount Weather.

            And Clarke made it clear that she was avoiding everything that reminded her of the event. Even her friends for that matter. Leaving her friends after something like that was considered cowardly in his eyes but she’s only been here for a few months. She was quite new at that hand in leadership.

            He could refuse. Tell Lexa to find someone else, but knowing Lexa, she would hire another person who would no doubt forcibly take Clarke. Something he didn’t want. Clarke was strong. She was a warrior but being forcibly taken to Polis was something he didn’t want.

            He didn’t want his mother to get a hold of her either.

            He bit his lip. It wouldn’t hurt to explain the situation to Clarke. She would no doubt listen.

            “ _Alright, I’ll accept your assignment_ ,” he said, taking the sketch of her in his jacket. “ _But there are some promises I can’t keep. She might not come easily_.”

            “ _If you ever bring her to me injured or restrained, there will be hell to pay_ ,” Lexa threatened.

            There was a chance that Lexa might stall on her word or even go back on it if his clan did anything but he was willing to take the assignment as he trusted no one else but himself with such.

            Also, foolishly idealistic as it may seem, he was hoping that Lexa would do neither.

* * *

 

“Clear out before his friends get here,” Charles Pike urged after Hannah was finished rifling through the belongings of the Grounder they caught looking at them as they hunted for food.

“No one is here for miles,” Gilmer pointed out. “We should be good.”

“You can say that when his friends come looking for him,” Hannah panted as she approached them with the bag the Grounder was carrying. She handed it to him. “Take a look if you must.”

Inside his bag was dried beef, dried fruit, nuts, a roll of cloth that had to be bandages, and a case of vials. As barbaric as they were, he had to give the Grounders credit for their survival skills. It was a shame that things were the way they were.

He knew plenty of Earth Skills but if they showed willingness for any rationality, the Grounders would have helped them adapt.

“Let’s clear out!” he commanded as Bryan tied the deer to the makeshift sled. “Make sure everyone is accounted for. We don’t want a repeat like the last time.”

They wanted to go back for Warren when they moved away from their hiding place in that frozen cave. Though there was a chance they would have unwanted visitors. They were on the run from those white fur laden goons that were after them.

Quietly, they weaved through the trees with their kill. Hiding when they saw a few Grounders place three corpses of other Grounders onto a wagon. Speaking something undecipherable as they always do. The snow splattered with blood.

If they only focused on killing each other, they wouldn’t have felt the need to kill his people. Those children didn’t need to die. Henry Green didn’t need to die…

The thought of the blood splattered snow as the corpses of those children littered the ground and the Grounder impaling Hannah’s husband sent anger rippling through him. If Pike had it his way, the Grounders would have holy hell to pay for what they were doing to some of his students as they reached the ground and those in Farm Station.

 

* * *

 

Standing in a tree with her bow and arrow ready, Clarke watched for any signs of activity. The squirrel that she caught in the trap was tied to a tree by her earlier; for bigger predators are always attracted to smaller animals.

            She stayed still for minutes before she could pick up growling nearby. The growling came closer, revealing the animal to be a black panther. It wasn’t farfetched to see them. For their ancestors were in zoos before the days of the Nuclear Apocalypse (or _Praimfaya_ , the Grounders commonly referred to it as).

            It was when the panther was close to the bait when she launched the arrow. Piercing his neck. Her boots met the snow as she jumped down from the tree to take care of her catch.

            “ _Yu gonplei ste odon_ ,” she said to the dead panther before wrapping him in tarp and keeping it together with a rope. A dead animal could buy some good supplies in regards to his meat and fur, though the only thing that she needed to trade it with was for a new pair of boots. As the pair she was wearing were getting worn at the soles.

            Clarke lugged the dead panther to Niylah’s trading post. Having to knock on the door to gain entry.

            “ _Good kill_ ,” Niylah complimented as Clarke lugged the animal in.

            “ _Thanks_ ,” Clarke replied, setting down the panther. “ _Just a pair of boots_.”

            “ _For this?_ ” Niylah asked, referring to the kill as she picked it up. “ _I think I would want more in exchange for that_.”

            Clarke shrugged. “ _I think we’re good for another month or two. Besides, my boots are getting worn at the bottom anyway_.”

            “ _As you wish_ ,” Niylah conceded.

            Clarke approached the area where Niylah and her father stocked up the boots. She bit her lip, as it seemed the selection was picked over under a course of a few days. Niylah’s father was gone, so he most likely was going on a supply run.

            Though she had to make do with what was offered. She selected a dark grey pair that was slightly worn on the sides but upon examination, the bottoms were good.

            “ _Still with the same person you were with earlier?_ ” Niylah asked as Clarke took the boots from the shelf.

            “ _Yeah_ ,” Clarke answered casually, stepping towards the counter. “ _I have no intention in parting from him anytime soon_.”

            With Roan on her mind, she hoped that he would get here soon so they would get a move on towards Blue Cliff. It was practically midday and they parted hours before the sun came up. Polis was a few hours away on foot but she was hoping that he didn’t get held up for whatever reason.

            Roan did tell her the murmurs and whispers he overheard at his brief times in the Polis markets; how apparently Ice Nation has tensions with Lexa lately.

            Speaking of the Devil –

            “ _Let’s head on out_ ,” she heard him say after hearing the door creak open. Clarke turned to see him putting his torso into the room. Everything with his tone and his eyes suggested an urgency.

            Something has happened. And the fact that she didn’t know what it was more worrying.

            “ _Looks like I’ll head on out_ ,” she said, turning to Niylah. “ _See you some other time_.”

            “ _Of course_ ,” said the woman with a smile.

            Clarke returned the smile before hastily passing through the door. The first thing she saw was was Roan untying Morrígan from her post. “ _Is something a matter?_ ” she asked him.

            “ _We’ll walk a ways, and then we will talk_ ,” he answered. Whatever it was, it was like he wanted nobody in earshot. Which didn’t help her anxiety any as they traveled through the passage of trees.

            She hoped they will stop soon, as she was eager what happened. Whatever it was, it was in Polis, because that’s where he went.

            After what seemed like ten minutes, was when they stopped.  Looking at her eyes, he said, “Clarke, when I stopped in Polis, the Commander wanted to see me.”

            Lexa wanted to see him? Oh no…

            “What did she want?” Clarke asked warily. Whatever Lexa wanted and why she spoke with him, it couldn’t be any good. Otherwise he wouldn’t be urgent about leaving the trading post.

            He exhaled deeply, like he didn’t know where to start. “She told me that my mother issued a bounty on your head last week,” he broadcasted. It was simply his tone that sent a chill down her spine, as it gave red flag warnings that his mother had nothing good in mind for her if caught.

            That she should be worried about that.

            “What?” was all she could manage, even though she shouldn’t be surprised. That she shouldn’t put it past Roan’s mother, who also happened to be Lexa’s enemy, to place a bounty on her.

            Then again, a bounty in general shouldn’t have surprised her. There were two other bounties going for her last she knew; from two clans that were far from Blue Cliff and Woods Can respectively. She was _Wanheda_ after all. This girl from the sky that killed hundreds since landing.

            “I can’t say I’m surprised, though,” he answered. “That isn’t something I wouldn’t put it past her doing, especially after what happened five years ago. Now that we’re on that subject, it’s like Commander Lexa is afraid of my mother seizing you and I myself don’t want that to be a reality. Since, I don’t want to beat around the bush any further, the Commander wants me to bring you to her unharmed. That she’ll lift my banishment if I do.”

            Horrified comprehension settled into her stomach as she was digesting what he said. Lexa wanted Roan to bring her to Polis? She…why…Polis was one of the last places she wanted to set foot in! Second to Camp Jaha. No, Roan couldn’t possibly…

            “You didn’t take it, did you?” she accused. She wasn’t hoping for a denial. Clarke wanted to make sure that he didn’t throw her under the bus just for a ticket home. That it wasn’t an easy choice for him not to part from her. She understood that he wanted to go home but still…

            His blue eyes frozen over. “You think I took it without hesitation?” he spat out. “I wanted to refuse. Tell her that she would have to find someone else. I only took it because if I didn’t, she would find somebody else and trust me, having you forcibly dragged to Polis is not what I want for you. I doubt that the other person would be as merciful.”

            He took it because he didn’t want Lexa to find anybody else to. She didn’t know whether to be grateful or…well, she didn’t know what to think of the other. “You do realize that if I’m at Polis, Lexa is bound to notify my people…my mother,” she faltered. “I don’t feel ready to face her or anyone else.”

            “That they’ll be disappointed for leaving or that you feel you don’t have the courage to go back to their settlement?” he surmised. Clarke bit her lip, as it was easily both. He stepped closer and tilted her chin up with his fingers. “I know you don’t want to feel like you can’t take care of yourself. To protect yourself, but I don’t want to idly stand by when my mother has issued a bounty on your head. She’s relentless and she’ll use any means necessary to get her hands on you just to undermine Lexa and appear infallible to everyone in Ice Nation.”

            She didn’t need to ask if he was honest, for it was apparent in his eyes. That he was serious about making sure that his mother wouldn't harm her. For she had placed all of her trust in him as it was.

            Clarke nodded, so he would know that she understood what he meant.

            Though Clarke didn’t want to bear the thought of being separated from him. She almost made the mistake of leaving him last month and she didn’t want him to separate from her. Even if it was selfish of her, she wanted to keep him in her life. For being separated from him would be like losing a piece of her soul.

Even if it was a long shot, perhaps she could convince him to tell his mother that there were other ways. That killing her wasn’t the only option. She was sure that Nia wouldn’t be that stupid.

 

* * *

 

            “I don’t know what to tell you,” Lincoln said to Jasper as he patched up his neck in Arkadia’s medical bay. “Confronting Ice Nation scouts to take a beacon is considered pure idiocy.”

            Not just idiotic. Very dangerous as well. Especially considering the tensions boiling between the Commander and Ice Nation since late last month. Ice Nation was getting pretty brazen, especially with their attack on two _Skaikru_ earlier last month and that their scouts were getting too close to the _Trikru_ border for comfort.

            He wanted to go with Bellamy and his friends to that part of the sector but Abby required his help in the medical bay.

            “I had to take that beacon somehow,” Jasper justified. “Farm Station is one of the few stations that we don’t know the fate of.”

            “Still a dangerous move, though,” Wells pointed out as he sat at the end of the bed. “You were lucky that Bellamy and Octavia were there. Otherwise you’d be dead.”

            If an Ice Nation scout was in possession of that beacon, it could only mean that Farm Station landed in Ice Nation. And everybody knew that _Azgedakru_ slaughter and enslaves unexpected visitors upon immediate arrival. An aspect that made _Azgeda_ more barbaric then his own clan even, in Lincoln’s eyes.

            For all his clan’s faults, at least they wait before attacking. Though even that didn’t justify his people attacking the first group of Sky People.

            “Can I leave now?” Jasper asked after Lincoln was done.

            “No,” Jackson answered, looking towards him. “You have to be discharged after Abby checks over you tomorrow morning.”

            Jasper groaned. Putting his palm to his forehead. Though that would be keeping him from the alcohol, he wished that Abby would try harder to keep him from situations where he would harm himself, like the incident with the _Azgeda_ scouts.

            “I’ll stay with him,” Wells assured. “Hopefully to distract him before doing anything stupid.”

            “Thank you,” Lincoln replied as he handed Jasper over to Abby before departing from the medical bay with the intention of meeting Octavia for lunch; where he hoped to explain to her about why he acquired the Guard jacket, as she seemed resentful.

            As he exited, he was greeted by a worried Raven.

            “Is he okay?” Raven asked him.

            “He’s doing good,” Lincoln answered. “Abby is keeping him overnight. Wells is also with him.”

            “Good,” she said. “Wells would know what to do since he was there when it happened. He would know because Jasper literally smiled when that Ice Nation Grounder placed a knife against his throat.”

            Smiling when the knife is to his throat. By all means, the only person who Jasper posed a threat to was himself. Where Lincoln came from, allowing a fellow member of their clan to commit self-destructive behavior to the point of suicide was considered murder.

             “If Jasper was _Trikru_ , there would be daily monitoring around the clock,” Lincoln noted. “They wouldn’t want him out of their sight.” It wasn’t a lie. If someone was on the verge of hurting themselves, it was considered a betrayal to give them the chance to hurt themselves.

            “After all that you been through down here, all the violence you witnessed, how come you are not a basket case?” she asked him.

            He could say that they were desensitized. That violence didn’t faze them as it was engrained in their lives for two centuries. Though another aspect was the empathy component of their training. To give emotional support to their clan brothers and sisters after battle; to assure that they feel the same way. Though that didn’t mean that they didn’t have nightmares and that some warriors became emotionally scarred after their experience.

            He had his fair share of nightmares. Ranging from killing that _Skaikru_ man on his father’ orders when he was a boy to seeing his friends get killed by _Azgeda_ warriors on the battlefield.

            “You might not believe it if I tell you but where I came from, we don’t neglect one another in times of pain,” he explained. “We emphasized with each other.”

            It was something that he wished Octavia would understand about being _Trikru_.

            Raven nodded, her eyes glistening. “Perhaps there are a lot of things we don’t understand about each other,” she surmised.

 

* * *

 

            “Did you hear what your mother offered if someone ever caught me?” Clarke asked him as they lay by the fire at the area that they set up camp. Basically because it would seem suspicious why they would set for Polis right after the trading post.

            Lexa never told him but with his mother, it could be anything. “Probably something that they couldn’t pass up,” he whispered in her ear. “Like a spot in her royal court. Food. Cattle. Anything.”

            But since this was Clarke that his mother was after, it was most likely the first one he thought of. They are going to want prestige in Ice Nation after catching _Wanheda_.

            Clarke hesitated before turning her torso to him. “Roan, I know that you don’t have a good relationship with your mother,” she noted. “In fact, she has no regard for your life but if Lexa lifts your banishment, could you convince your mother to lift that bounty off my head. That there are other options rather than killing me?”

            For a moment, it was like her words were pig Latin. Was she serious? “No, because my mother would only keep you like you were some trophy she won,” he pointed out. “That is not an existence I want for you. Also, there’s no guarantee that she wouldn’t go back on her word. The moment you pose a threat to her power, she will kill you and put your head on a pike to set an example. I lived with her for the first twenty-three years of my life.”

            Given her defeated sigh, he knew that she didn’t intend to argue. Like that option was thrown out the window. “Well, it’s just that.” Clarke exhaled. “Call me a coward but, I still don’t feel ready to face my mother. My friends. My people. I want to stay with you, Roan.”

            He had to admit, even if the prospect of going back home was what he found desirable, that meant he would be separated from Clarke. The only reunion he would look forward to would be one with his siblings. With Echo. But there was the grim reality that he might be disconnected from them after being away for five years. That it would take some time to sync with them.

            Clarke was the only one who was on the same page as him.

            There had to be something. One that wouldn’t reduce her to someone’s living trophy.

            “We’ll figure something out,” he assured her, kissing her forehead.

            They say Lexa was losing her touch. Depending on his mother’s decisions, there would come a time where his mother might be her own downfall.

            They slept until the hours before daybreak. When Clarke was in the process of getting Morrígan around, she asked, “Think you could take the rope and cloth out.”

            “What for?” he asked. Whatever Clarke wanted, it had to be good.

            She turned her gaze towards him and answered, “If we’re going to Polis on Lexa’s behest, I’m going to have to go as your prisoner.”

            “My prisoner,” he repeated.

            “People are looking for me,” she pointed out. “After three months, I’m sure my people are out there searching as well. It wouldn’t be in character for me to go willingly. Besides, people would be expecting _Wanheda_ to put up a fight.”

            Clarke’s plan wasn’t bad. In fact it was intriguing. She no doubt picked up that when there was a bounty, the person caught didn’t go willingly. He would be surprised if she didn’t. It would be a safe way of traveling, as people were less inclined to confront them out in the open if they were under the assumption that he held her against her will.

            One problem though…

            “Part of the plan was that I bring you to her unharmed,” he pointed out. “And that included restraining you.”

            “Keep me tied up until we get to where she lives,” Clarke offered. “Then we would cease the prisoner and captive pretense.”

            Roan couldn’t think of any better plan. He hoped that it would work. It better work.

 

* * *

 

            First thing: remove the berry-dye job.

            “ _Wanheda_ has blonde hair,” Roan conceded. “They are not going to be expecting me to cart a red head into Polis.”

            Clarke couldn’t argue with that. They are going to expect a girl with blonde hair. They are also going to expect some altercation between the two that would have removed her dye job anyway. That was, if they met under those circumstances.

            Though that meant it would have to mean that the dried mud would be removed from his face, concealing his scars. Something that he seemed to understand. For she saw him cleaning his face through her peripheral vision as she was cleaning her hair by the lake.

            Washing it until most of the berry-die was gone. Though some of it still remained. Not that it bothered her.

            “All set?” he asked her after they were done cleaning off whatever berry residue or mud that was on them.

            “Yes,” she answered as he took out the coil of rope that he used to restrain his captives in and the cloth to prevent them from making any noise.

            “Hands in front of you,” he prompted. Clarke complied. Watching as he bound her hands in front of her torso. It was tight but not tight enough that her blood flow would be constricted. He spaced her hands apart to add a rope so he could pull her with forward.

            “You want a drink of water or something to eat before we continue on?” he asked her thoughtfully as he pulled out the long piece of cloth.

            Clarke shook her head ‘ _No’_. She wasn’t hungry or thirsty now but she knew that she would be later. From where they were standing, Polis would probably be half a day’s walk on foot; combined with stops they might have to take.

            Roan wrapped the cloth around her head. “Mouth open,” he prompted after tying the knot. Clarke opened her mouth, allowing him to place the knot between her teeth. “If you need anything, just slightly tug on the rope,” he advised, as he tied the leash to Morrígan’s saddle.

            Clarke nodded, unable to speak from the knot between her teeth. Though that was the intention as per idea. It would be suspicious if he didn’t gag her.

            Anyone standing in a hundred mile radius would assume that she was his prisoner. That was what they were going for. What she was going for. As they started their travel, she had hoped that nothing could go wrong.

            Though in this world, anything could go wrong. Something that she learned after landing on Earth five months ago.

            For a few hours, they traveled like this: with her being pulled along by the horse while Roan led the way. Gradually overtime, the sun rose above the horizon and Clarke had to squint to be able to see through the bright sunlight.

            Even when the rope wasn’t tight, the coarse texture was still burning on her skin. Clarke could only imagine how worse it would have been had this been an actual prisoner/captive scenario.

            As they traveled, she could only think of what words would be said between her and Lexa. Months later, Clarke vowed to spit on her and say every angry word that came to mind, though she doubts she could now. Under Roan’s advice, she placed herself in Lexa’s shoes. Tried to see everything from her point of view. Though Clarke came to terms that Lexa thought she did what was best for her people and that maybe she had no choice, she still resented her for leaving them.

            She was, at the least, intending to say some curt words. That even if they work together again, the trust between them will have to be earned this time.

            It was around noon, when they were close to a snow covered clearing with tall grass rising from the snow; when she was about to tug on the rope to get some food when Roan stopped completely; placing his hand to her chest.

            “Dammit,” he muttered and Clarke followed his gaze to see three figures walking through a clearing. Just in time before Roan pulled her behind a tree. “Ice Nation scouts. If the circumstances were different, we could backtrack but with the horse and the snow…” he sighed. “They crossed the border. They are marked for death anyway.”

            Ice Nation scouts at the border. If there were scouts, then that meant there must be an army closing in. Tristan sent scouts ahead of his and Anya’s army months ago and there was no denying that the same thing was happening. If there was an army with scouts ahead, since they crossed into _Trikru_ territory, that would easily be seen as a declaration of war; an act of provocation.

            He took a bag from his pack and put it over her head without a word. Clarke couldn’t see clearly but after they entered the clearing, she heard shouts and saw three figures running towards them.

            “ _Easy_ ,” Roan called out. “ _I don’t want trouble_.”

            The scouts stopped. “ _He’s Ice Nation_ ,” one of them pointed out. “ _Who’s this?_ ”

            “ _Wanheda_ ,” Roan answered. “ _A prisoner for our queen. I told you. I don’t want trouble_.”

            It was easy for Clarke to figure out that Roan was simply lying so they could continue. Since he had no intention of bringing Clarke to his mother.

            Snow crunched under boots as one of them went past Roan and Morrígan towards her. Taking the bag from her head.

            “ _We’ll be set for life_ ,” the scout said triumphantly. He turned to the one behind him. “ _Take her_.”

            “ _I can’t let you do that_ ,” Roan refused. Not long after, he disconnected the rope from the saddle. Eyeing the escape window, Clarke ran; taking Morrígan’s reins as she ran.

            Behind her, she could hear shouts and the tell-tale sounds of an altercation. Though she couldn’t help sense that there was a scout behind her. She heard the sound of an arrow being freed from its bowstring before being knocked to the ground.

            Clarke turned to see that the scout chasing her was shot in the back of the neck with an arrow; his knife lying close to her. Clarke kicked the corpse off of her before struggling to get on her knees.

            “Let’s go,” Roan told her as he helped her on her feet. “If we saw scouts, then there’s an army nearby.”

            And it seemed like Roan knew as well.

            Resuming their trail towards a patch of trees ahead, Clarke saw the bodies of the scouts lying on the snow. No doubt that one of their own or _Trikru_ will find them. It was only minutes later when she heard the tell-tale sound of war drums. Though in a different rhythm then the one used by _Trikru_.

            “ _Shit_ ,” he muttered as the blood pounded in her ears. For from a distance she saw what looked like a swirl on a palm painted against a white canvas moving forward from a distance; accompanied by shouts. She recognized it as Ice Nation’s symbol from TonDC.

            Roan pulled her and the horse towards the woods. Far from the encroaching army. Snow crunching under them when they approach what looked like the entrance of the remains of a subway station.

            He tied Morrígan to the post before removing the gag off Clarke’s head. “Until the army passes, we’re hiding in here,” he explained as he removed the rope from her wrists.

            Clarke rubbed her wrists as they descended down the subway station. The irony of the situation registering in her brain. _Azgeda_ wouldn’t easily see one of their own running away from their army.

            Though if they knew what his objective was, they would have it in for him. They would both be killed.

            Roan opened his pack; giving her some of his dried meat. Which she nibbled on as he made a fire. When her hunger was satisfied, she lay by the fire. Her feet were exhausted.

            “Do you think someone would tell her?” Clarke asked him as she felt his hand brush against her shoulder. “About the Ice Nation army?”

            There was a pause followed by: “Maybe,” he answered. “That’s not going to stop me from taking you to her.”

            “Lexa promised to lift your banishment,” Clarke pointed out, turning her gaze towards him. “How can you be sure that she wouldn’t go back on her word?”

            “Trust me, I know that’s a possibility,” he admitted. “From what I hear, Lexa only goes back on her word if something changes. She’s not one to push things under the rug when it concerns the wellbeing of her people.”

            Now that Roan said that, now it explained why Lexa was enthusiastic about their plan before making a hundred and eighty degree turn minutes later after killing the snipers.

            Clarke closed her eyes; they were bound to have a long trek to Polis ahead of them when they leave the subway station. She didn’t know how long time had passed. She was only aware that Roan never left her side and at one point she heard him getting up. Probably to check on something.

            She thought she heard someone descending the steps of their hiding place. Clarke tensed up, her hand on the knife in her belt; the blood pumping in her ears and hands as she prepared to attack anyone who might have ill intent. Though she was confident that Roan might beat her to it.

            Footsteps rush to her location behind one of the poles and she sits up. Knife poised and ready for attack. Only for her grip to go slack when she sees who it is.

            Bellamy? How did…why was he wearing Grounder gear? No, this was something she didn’t plan. She should have known that Bellamy would try to come for her if he saw her in that situation. If this was a better time and different circumstance, she would have rushed to him and throw her arms around him like the last time, not wanting to let go.

            Seeing Bellamy now wasn’t her plan. Though that was the plan to pretend she was Roan’s prisoner and it wasn’t the plan to reunite with Bellamy under these circumstances.

            “Put the knife down,” he tried to assure. “I will get you out of here.”

            Bellamy couldn’t be serious. He was literally going to get himself killed. Horrified comprehension dawned on her at the idea of Bellamy’s blood on Roan’s hands. No, she didn’t want that for Roan. Nor did she want to lose Bellamy either.

            “No,” she protested. “Go! Leave before – Look out!”

            As if right on cue, Clarke watched as Roan kicked Bellamy to the ground on his back. Panic took hold; her blood pounding in her head as she stood up. Grabbing her lover’s arm as his sword was poised to Bellamy’s chest.

            “Roan, don’t!” she pleaded. “He’s my friend! Don’t kill him! Please don’t!”

            Roan’s blue eyes turned towards her. Taking her plea into consideration before withdrawing his sword from Bellamy’s chest.

            Her lips curled into a smile. She knew Roan wouldn’t do anything that –

            Roan placed his mouth next to her ear and whispered, “I’ll explain when he’s out of earshot.”

            Just after that, the blade of one of Roan’s swords buried itself in Bellamy’s leg before Roan kicked him in the chin.

            “Don’t follow us,” Roan threatened as he placed his sword in its sheath.

            Relief was replaced with shock as she felt Roan’s lift her up from the ground. Her eyes not leaving Bellamy as she watched him struggle to get back on his feet. Clarke tried pulling herself out of Roan’s grip to help Bellamy but with no success.

            “Why did you do that for? Huh?” she demanded as he tied back on the restraints on her wrists. After a minute of walking away from their hiding place, she whispered, “Just because I didn’t want you to kill him, that didn’t mean that you could stab him in the leg!”

            Roan looked at her as he replaced the gag around her mouth. “I did it to slow him down,” he explained. “As he would have followed us anyway even if I warned him not to. It’s in human nature to do something that you’re told not to.”

            Even with Roan’s explanation, Clarke didn’t like it. She didn’t have to. Though following her and Roan to get to her, even after Roan told him not to, would be something that Bellamy would do. The image of Bellamy painfully hobbling along after them flashed in her mind.

            Knowing Bellamy, he probably wasn’t alone and she hoped that he would get that leg treated soon.

            They traveled for a few more hours until Clarke heard the presence of other horses. A stable of some sort?

            She heard dialogue between Roan and somebody else. Basically about Morrígan’s lodging before Roan said, “ _I prefer to use the tunnels. I don’t want to attract attention_.”

            Tunnels?

            Moments later after walking a little bit, she heard a metal door screech open before she felt Roan’s hand take hers. Cautiously, she descended down a metal ladder before stumbling. Barely hitting the ground before Roan’s arms caught her.

            Her feet settled on the metal ground as the door closed from above them. Roan removed the bag from her head followed by the gag and the restraints. The tunnel was dark; with the smell of mold, rotted carcasses, and rust seeping in her nostrils.

            Clarke wasn’t sure how to proceed in the dark tunnels but Roan seemed to. For she could feel his hand guiding through the dark maze. “I used these tunnels for high priority catches,” he explained after a few minutes. “I am not one to make a scene.”

            They kept walking until his hand touched her wrists and he turned her towards what Clarke barely made out to be a ladder. She breathed deeply as she ascended up the metal rungs; aware that his hand was touching her back to support her.

            She felt around the trapdoor for a handle and when her hands find it, she opens it. Shielding her eyes from the blinding sunlight; the sounds of conversations filtering into her ears as she reached the ground.

            Their destination: a tall skyscraper that managed to survive a nuclear apocalypse and two centuries of weather. Two guards met them at the entrance.

            “ _We want to reach the Commander’s throne hall_ ,” he specified. “ _The fiftieth floor_.”

            The thought of climbing all those stairs to reach the room where Lexa was fatigued Clarke before she and Roan approached the door of an elevator; which he had to open manually.

            _There must be a pulley system_ , she thought as the lift began to rise. That would be the only logical explanation.

            “Your friend should be okay,” he tried to assure. “Most likely he wasn’t alone, as his other friends would have found him before he bled out.”

            She nodded, as his thoughts echoed her previous ones. Her irritation and slight anger over him stabbing Bellamy diminished. Roan did stab him in an area that wouldn’t render him a cripple. He wasn’t planning to kill him anyway.

Clarke turned her gaze to him; stepping closer to close the distance between them. She swallowed as she graced her fingers with his.

            Clarke wished that this didn’t have to mean goodbye but unfortunately, it seemed like it. “I just want to thank you,” she started. “For keeping me sane for these three months. If I was alone, I could have been capable of surviving on my own. As I learned the necessary skills. What made a difference was that you were source of close companionship; human contact. I never realized how much I needed it until I made the mistake of almost leaving you nearly two months ago.”

            His lips curled into a smile as he brushed a hair from her forehead. “If I could say so myself, you were my first close companion for five years,” he admitted. “The only one to share the roof with me, even.”

             Clarke allowed herself to smile softly before saying, “I wish this didn’t have to be goodbye, Roan.”

            “Goodbyes don’t have to be final, Clarke,” he said. Putting his hand on her face. “Until we meet again, I will keep you in my thoughts, Snowflake.”

            Clarke nodded as she felt a tear trickle down her cheek. “May We Meet Again,” she rasped before kissing him. She wanted to remember the feeling of his lips. Hoping that the memory of them wouldn’t fade. That the memory of him wouldn’t fade.

            The doors to the lift open just as it stopped. As they were being led towards Lexa’s throne hall, Clarke tried not to give indication of the intimate conversation that took place between her and Roan. Given his stoicism on his face, the same could be said for him.

            Two massive doors were opened for them and before she could step into the room, Clarke could hear dialogue between Anya with an unknown man.

            “ _Clarke kom Skaikru_ ,” Roan introduced as they entered the room. “ _Wanheda. As promised_.”

            In the room dimly lit by the late afternoon sunlight, Clarke met eye to eye with Lexa; who was sitting in her throne on a dais. Surrounded by Anya, Indra, and a smooth headed man that vaguely reminded Clarke of monks that she used to see in illustrations.

            Simmering resentment stirred in Clarke as the Commander stood from her throne. Relief in her green eyes. “Hello, Clarke,” she greeted softly as she descended from the dais. “I am happy that we did meet again.”

            “I wish I could say the same, Lexa,” Clarke replied bluntly. From Clarke’s peripheral vision, she thought she saw Anya cock her head to the side. Like there was something about this peculiar reunion that baffled her.

            Lexa stood back. As if her words were a slap to the face. “I don’t expect you to forgive me, Clarke,” she stated. Lexa turned her gaze to Roan. “So, you have brought her back to me unharmed, as per our deal.”

            “That is about right,” he recognized. “Now, it’s time to honor your end of the deal.”

            “Indra has informed me that your mother’s army is marching towards Polis,” Lexa pointed out.

            So, Indra saw it and informed Lexa. Clarke turned her gaze to Lexa. The blood draining from her face. No, this was too predictable. This was to be expected but still…

            “You know that has nothing to do with me,” Roan pointed out. “Honor our deal.”

            Even if Roan knew that Lexa would go back on her word, it was like he was hoping that she wouldn’t this time.

            “I will honor your deal when your queen honors my Coalition,” Lexa affirmed. She glanced at two guards in the room. “Lock Prince Roan of _Azgeda_ away.”

            What followed happened so quickly that it was considered unconceivable. As soon as those words came out, Clarke moved forward. Hoping to wedge the gap between him and the guards coming for him. As if they sensed it, the two additional guards at the side of the room seized her. Clamping their hands on her in an iron solid grip.

            “ _Don’t take him!_ ” she screeched, seeing nothing but red. “ _Get off of me!_ ”

            Clarke stomped her foot on one of the guards restraining her. Only for them to respond with one of them tightly wrapping their arm under her neck. Their hand on her head.

            She could only hear Roan struggling and shouting her name, Anya and Lexa trying to pull them off of her, and Lexa’s panicked shouts before everything faded into pitch black darkness.

 


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Slowly, Clarke blinked her eyes open. The first thing registering to her was an old chandelier hanging from a ceiling. The second thing, the feeling of soft fur against her hands. She sat up, placing her hand on her neck. Nothing hurt but there was probably some bruising.

            Outside, she could see the bright orange and purple hue of the early sunset. Its rays casting light into the room she was in. She was lying on an old iron bed of some sort. With a sofa nearby. The doors an aged glass.

            It wasn’t a cell. Lexa would have no reason to lock her in one but she might as well place her in a lavish room that probably felt like it had the same equivalency.

            As if trying to deny that feeling, Clarke rushed towards the door. Pulling on the handle. Only to be horrified that it’s locked.

            “Let me out!” she shouted, turning the knob and pounding on the glass. “Let me out! What have you done with Roan? Where is he?”

            She gasped for breath; placing her head against the door as if she was trying to fight oxygen deprivation. Not knowing was what hurt her worst, though she had an unpleasant idea. Roan was Ice Nation; his mother being the one that           killed Lexa’s lover. She would undoubtedly not give him the same regards that she would her. The image of him in a cell like a rabid dog burned Clarke’s mind to the point of unimaginable agony.

            After five minutes banging on the doors and shouting for release, Clarke retreated back to the bed; curling her knees to her forehead. Her mind drifting to the inevitable outcome of her performance earlier. It would no doubt suggest that she and Roan were acquainted beforehand; that they were more than friends.

            Someone turned the lock in her room. Expecting it to be Lexa, Clarke sat up. Prepared to inform her that she could go float herself only to see that it was only Anya; a tray of food in her hands.

            “I thought you were hungry and might need company,” the older woman said apologetically. “Lexa wanted to come herself but I thought it was best if I came instead.”

            _Well, you’re smart to think that_ , Clarke thought. _Because I would give Lexa holy hell_.

            But she didn’t say that out loud; even if she wanted to. Anya set the tray on the table nearby when Clarke asked her, “Where’s Roan?”

            Anya’s head jerked up. Her eyes widening like her question caught her off guard. Though it was no denying that it scandalized her as well. “Clarke, that cockroach shouldn’t be your concern,” she scolded.

            “Just tell me what Lexa did with him,” Clarke demanded, the blood rushing to her face and neck. “And don’t call him a cockroach.”

            Anya rolled her eyes, drawing a long suffering sigh. “Very well,” she conceded. “I might as well tell you since you’re infuriatingly stubborn.” She took a seat next to her. “He’s held under state custody in the Ice Nation Embassy. Where he’ll be for two weeks until he is sent back to his home territory.”

            “But Lexa said –” she said.

            “She said _when_ not _if_ ,” Anya interrupted cleanly against her words. “It was a tactical stall she put in place. Lexa couldn’t risk lifting his banishment with the _Azgeda_ army marching towards Polis. After all, Nia wouldn’t risk attacking the city if one of her valuable tools was inside.”

            Roan wasn’t in some dirty cell and though that relieved her, it didn’t sit her well that Lexa used him as a bargaining chip to prevent his mother from attacking. Then again, he was from an enemy clan.

            “Can I see him?” she asked.

            “I am afraid that is not an option, Clarke,” she stressed. “Not with Ice Nation wanting your head. Stepping into that embassy is like stepping on their soil. Their ambassador would think it was Christmas time if you stepped foot inside.”

            Her first instinct was to argue. That even if Ice Nation wanted her head, Roan shouldn’t be placed collectively with them. That he was banished for five years to even share that opinion. However, Clarke wasn’t in the mood to argue with Anya; for the woman was stubborn as much as she was. As stubborn as own her mother even.

            Instead, Clarke simply nodded before taking a muffin from the tray in front of her.

            After a minute of silence, Anya premised, “Hours ago, I thought I saw resentment in your eyes when you looked at Lexa.”

            Clarke shrugged before taking a nibble of the muffin. It was bran with berries. “It wasn’t as bad as months ago. I mean, I am starting to understand why she could have done it but she still betrayed my people.”

            “It wasn’t an easy choice for her Clarke,” Anya passed on. “Like I’m sure it wasn’t easy for you to irradiate the Mountain.”

            “But it was easy for her to leave,” Clarke pointed out.

            “Lexa wouldn’t have left you if she didn’t think you could handle it,” Anya said. “She thought that you would be able to talk yourself out of it. That you would make a deal with Cage.”

            “I tried but I couldn’t convince him,” Clarke pointed out. “Killing his father didn’t work. He only retaliated by replacing Raven on the table with my mother to drill for her bone marrow. He literally gave me no choice.”

            She blinked the tears away as the horrifying image of seeing her mother strapped into the table and drilled for her bone marrow resurfaced.

            After a moment’s hesitation, Anya continued, “Lexa didn’t expect you to handle it in that magnitude. No one here did. I wanted her to take some credit, to maintain her power over the Coalition. She refused to.”

            Anya’s last sentence alone was what caught her attention. “Lexa refused to take credit for Mount Weather?” Clarke asked, perplexed.

            “Her reasoning was that Nia would undermine her regardless,” Anya answered. “In fact, she feared that taking credit would diminish everything you did. That it would weaken you.”

            Clarke scratched her chin. Lexa refused to take credit. No wonder the clans were seeing her as weak.

            “I guess I should give you your peace,” Anya sent on. “The guards are there at your door if you need anything. Just ask for Lexa or me if it’s anything important.”

            The woman left her seat on the bed and before she could leave, Clarke called, “Anya!”

            She turned towards her in response.

            “Can you go to Camp Jaha tomorrow and check on my family and friends please?” Clarke asked. “It’s just that…I have been thinking about them.”

            Hoping that Bellamy was okay. He should be.

            Anya curled her lips in a smile and answered, “I will be sure to. Also, while you were gone, they renamed their settlement Arkadia.”

            Arkadia. Derived from the Ark. Just hearing this made Clarke feel disconnected. Out of place from her people.

            Even as Anya left, Clarke didn’t feel hungry enough to touch her food. In fact, her stomach felt numb.

            Clarke didn’t sleep well that night. For she could only stare at the space that should be occupied next to her. Like a part of her was disconnected. Only amplified that she couldn’t touch him.

 

* * *

 

            They could have thrown him in some dirt cell. Lock him there and throw away the key. Though it wouldn’t have been like watching those guards restraining Clarke as she tried to reach for him. With one of them wrapping their arm under her jaw to activate her pressure points.

            She wouldn’t have died. As that’s not what the Commander would have wanted. It still didn’t diminish the urge to try and take them on for restraining Clarke like some rabid dog. Even if it wasn’t feasible.

            Instead of the stockade under Polis, they steered him to the place he was forbidden to access within Polis: the Ice Nation Quarter. The small piece of _Azgeda_ soil inside _Trikru_ territory. It later became clear that the Ice Nation Embassy would be their location of choice for him.

            That Lexa hadn’t completely gone back on her word. That she merely stalled.

            They bypassed the reception area and upon entrance to one of the private residence quarters in the fourth level, the attendants got their hands on him. Apparently having been eagerly waiting for his arrival like they were expecting him. Then again, they were probably informed ahead of time.

            They had drawn his bath. Forcing him in the metal tub and scrubbing every inch of him clean. As if he wasn’t capable of washing himself like he had been for the past five years. He had the strong desire to fight them off but it took him great restraint to from doing such.

            His hair was rinsed, scrubbed, and brushed until they separated the clumps and mats of hair; until his hair was smooth. They didn’t stop there when the scissors were taken out. Trimming his brown locks until it was a length that brushed his shoulders.

            When one of the attendants took out a razor, he put his hand out. “ _No_ ,” he ordered.

            “ _Your highness, you have to look presentable_ ,” the woman stressed. “ _You are a prince. Not some ruffian_.”

            “ _If you want to keep your hand, I suggest that you don’t touch my face_ ,” he threatened. They already scrubbed him down like some prized pig. They didn’t need to take it any further. Yes, he had his baths drawn for him with someone occasionally filling it with warm water while he cleaned himself five years back but he didn’t appreciate them scrubbing him down.

            The attendant backed down and when he dried off, they presented him with some clothing from the embassy’s clothing cache. Frayed trousers, a gray-blue long sleeved shirt, and a vest with gray fur at the collar and arm sockets. Typical royal garments for a prince that has reached his prime.

            He absent mindedly put them on. Pushing his feet into boots before deciding to restrain his hair from the top as to beat the attendants to it.

            When the hassle of being fussed over was done, he was called to dinner. Another thing which proved to be taxing for the main ambassador was waiting for him in the room; which was getting most of its light from the setting sun.

            As for the ambassador, Ivan, was it? It had to be from all the recent whispers. The ambassador was named Petra when he was banished but that wouldn’t be set in stone. Especially with the Commander kicking people from her tower on an almost daily basis for disrespecting her.

            “ _I see that the Commander didn’t choose the cell for you_ ,” Ivan said as Roan took his seat.

            “ _If she went completely back on her word, she would have_ ,” Roan pointed out, looking at the tower from a distance. Though not for the reason why Ivan might be thinking.

            “ _What I don’t understand is this_ ,” Ivan accused, his eyes hard. “ _With the Commander of Death briefly in your possession, why did you make the mistake of handing her over to the Commander instead of bringing her here? That was your ticket home_.”

            He could only scoff. He couldn’t tell him that he really took it so Clarke could still have her agency. It would be dangerous not to mention asinine. “ _I had to uphold my end of the deal_ ,” Roan pointed out. “ _You do realize that if I did what you would have wanted me to do, she would have demanded for my head_.”

            “ _And you expected her to keep her end?_ ” Ivan demanded. “ _She basically used you as a bargaining chip_.”

            As if his mother wasn’t any better than Lexa.

            “ _At this rate, the Commander is going to fall soon_ ,” Ivan disclosed.  “ _That is, if she’s smart enough to kill the Commander of Death. Hopefully she’s stupid enough to let her live so your mother could get her hands on her_.”

            Roan had a feeling that Lexa wouldn’t kill Clarke anytime soon. Otherwise she wouldn’t be insistent on her wellbeing. They say things come in full circle and that this time, challenging Lexa could result in her death instead of Lexa refusing to stoop to her level like last time.

            Turning himself in for the night was something of a chore. All he could think of that the space next to his should be occupied. To say that he would have a hard time sleeping would be an understatement.

            Someone very well could have ripped his body in half.

 

* * *

 

            “You might want to take it easy,” Mrs. Griffin advised him the next morning after checking his leg. “Wait a week for it to heal.”

            “Sergeant Miller wanted me to scout the perimeter today,” Bellamy grunted, sitting up. Trying to ignore the pain that has numbed by painkillers. Though the thought of leaving Clarke behind in that derelict subway station and leaving her with that…man didn’t even fit him.

            “You heard the Chancellor,” Gina said, touching his shoulder with a smile. “Take it easy. Would you like me to give you anything? Give you hot chocolate. Read you _The Illiad_?”

            “I’d take hot chocolate,” he requested. Though nothing could cure the onslaught of horrifying images that played out in his mind of what that monster might be doing to Clarke and one of them was probably worse than murder. The thought of it made his intestines curdle.

            The plastic curtains are pushed aside; Anya stepping into the medical bay.

            “What is it, Anya?” Mrs. Griffin demanded. Like her presence was another factor of stress. “Whatever it is, it can wait.”

“You don’t want me to tell you that your daughter is safe?” Anya demanded.

            Clarke!

            From there, Abby’s demeanor changed. Her eyes widened. Like those very words was what she was waiting for. “Where is she?” she asked.

            “She’s in Polis with the Commander,” Anya answered, glimpsing at him for a moment. “Lexa wishes she could send her back today but with the problems with Ice Nation, that might be another week.”

            “What did you do the man that kidnapped her?” Bellamy asked, sitting up. “Where did you find them?”

            Anya bit her lip. Like she was debating where to proceed. “Actually, he was hired by the Commander to retrieve Clarke,” Anya answered. “I never understood why she made the decision for utilizing his services but she was insistent.”

            Why would Lexa…? If she didn’t want to do it herself, why not ask him to do it? He wouldn’t have hesitated if given the task to find Clarke. It would be better than being taken by a guy that carried her like a sack of potatoes.

            Though something told Bellamy that Lexa hired that bastard because she had something to offer. He shouldn’t put it past her after that stint in Mount Weather.

            “And what did she offer him?” Bellamy asked resentfully.

            “She was going to send him back to his clan forthwith after he brought her to Polis, but with Queen Nia’s provocation with her army yesterday, she couldn’t risk it,” Anya answered. “He’s in state custody in Polis until he can go back home.”

            State custody. That was a term that the Grounders used. Basically what it was that in the event of inter-clan tensions, a member of a problematic clan was placed inside their clan’s or the other clan’s embassy until further notice. Like their version of house arrest.

            Though it didn’t slip his mind that Anya made mention about this guy being literally Ice Nation. Perhaps someone should tell Lexa all the hell that _Azgeda_ put Farm Station under in the past few months.

            Though her inaction towards the matter could say that she wouldn’t understand.

 

* * *

 

            When Lexa invited her for breakfast, Clarke said no.

            When it was informed that they’ll draw her a bath, Clarke said no to that either.

            Her door wasn’t locked like it was on her first night, though Clarke had no motivation of leaving. Though nobody in Lexa’s circle criticized her for wanting to remain cooped up in her room. As if they got the memo that she wanted to be left alone.

            If they didn’t force her out of her room, they delivered materials (like books and drawing charcoal) into her room for her to pass the time; among them the sketchbook from her pack that was returned to her. Sifting through the sketchbook, she was relieved that all drawings were accounted for. That they didn’t think to sift through them.

            When she wasn’t eating the meals they brought to her, Clarke was drawing everything that she could think of from the top of her head. Places that she never been to and that she never could.

            Ancient cities with polished and new skyscrapers, forests with heavy vegetation, international landmarks that once existed before the nuclear war…

            Though when winter themes came up, it was like…well like she didn’t feel the will to draw them out anymore. Like her motivation for it sapped away from her. For when winter became a thought, all she could see was _his_ face with it.

            It was hard knowing that he was away from her. Harder that he was nearby and couldn’t see her. That was the worst. She couldn’t sleep well as she was used to his weight next to hers for three months.

            After all, he did join the faces of people that she loved and cared about. Even if Roan incited a stronger response then the rest.

            Her friends and her family would peg her as selfish. For prioritizing a man that she knew for only three months over them. That her priorities were skewed. Perhaps they would be correct, even if they didn’t understand that he was her only source of close human contact for three months.

            He was, by all means, the one that kept her sane. Was there to provide intimate companionship; was present with her during that period of darkness after Mount Weather, even if he didn’t know the story surrounding her leaving her people at first. She was out of touch with everybody else but him.

            Roan had become an extension of her and vice versa.

             Six days have passed since they were separated and as Clarke watched the snow fall outside, it was like the need to see him enhanced. To touch him and be near him again became a desire that became desperate.

            _I need to see him_ , she thought. Anya told her that the Ice Nation Embassy was off limits for her. That it became a risk. Clarke could get out of the room and the tower altogether, though it might attract Lexa’s attention.

            Clarke bit her lip. The idea of having Lexa’s permission to even see Roan was taxing. That she didn’t want to, though something told her that in order to see him, she might have to get through Lexa first. As unpleasant as it might be, it seemed to be her only option.

            She opened her door a crack and requested, “ _Tell Lexa that I want to see her. That it’s urgent_.”

            If she wished that the wait to drag out, it was in vain. The doors opened a few minutes later, with Lexa walking right in; her shoulder cape moving against her side.

            “Clarke,” she mused. Her green eyes beaming. “I was wondering when –”

            “I need to see Roan,” Clarke interrupted. Cutting cleanly against her words.

            “What was that, Clarke?” she asked. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

            “I need to see, Roan,” Clarke repeated. “Just to speak with him.”

            Lexa raised her eyebrows. Her eyes widening in shock. Only for her features to cool seconds later. “I am afraid that I can’t let you, Clarke,” she crossly dictated.

            “And why not?” Clarke demanded.

            “Look,” she insisted. “It’s going to be a week tomorrow since he brought you here and apparently _Azgeda_ hasn’t lifted that bounty off your head since then. Crossing into their embassy is equivalent to stepping into their territory. The moment you walk in, they will seize you and take you to Nia.”

            “You have guards,” Clarke pointed out. “Send them with me.”

            “No, Clarke,” Lexa demanded through her shallow breathing. “I can’t allow Ice Nation to take you away. Not after…”

            Lexa sighed. Pressing her palm to her face. Even if she tried to appear strong and be the one with the authority, her unwillingness to let her travel to the embassy stemmed from a particular incident years back.

            Which factored in another reason for why it was easy to leave her at the Mountain aside from her confidence in Clarke.

            “I can see it now,” Clarke observed. “You are afraid that you’ll lose me just as you lost Costia. That you think it’s your fault that she died and you think it would be all on you if something happens to me.”

            Lexa’s silence was answer enough as she stared at her, eyes wide.

            “You cannot push me away because you got close to comfort and turn around to put me under your microscope because you’re afraid of my wellbeing,” Clarke pointed out. “You can’t have it both ways, Lexa!”

            “Clarke…” she started in protest.

            “You are basically letting Roan’s mother win by shutting yourself off from everyone else and pushing people away because you are afraid that something would happen to them,” Clarke said. “I made the mistake of leaving everyone I cared about because I was plagued with guilt about killing innocent people to save them. That guilt still plagues me and I still can’t bring myself to face them, even though a part of me wants to return home. I almost made that same mistake two months ago with another person and I’m glad I didn’t because it was tearing me apart. Love may be weakness but you cannot beat yourself up for whatever happened to Costia. You cannot beat yourself up if anything happens to me. Because it’s not your fault. It’s never going to be your fault.”

            Clarke wondered if she was saying those words not just to Lexa but to herself as well. To remind herself that sometimes she can’t control what happens to those that she loves, even if she tried to avoid it. That perhaps she and Lexa are alike that way.

            With Lexa looking at her once more, Clarke continued, softly, “Just let me visit him. Please. I can look after myself. If it makes you feel better, send guards with me. Give me two hours at the most and if I’m not back fifteen minutes after two hours, send someone to find me.”

            The Commander bit her lip. Like she was debating her options; as if trying to see what decision was best. She took a deep breath. “Alright, I will let you speak with him and give you that two hour window,” she conceded. “If you are not back in fifteen minutes, I’ll send a few people there to find you.”

            She provided Clarke with a cloak to help obscure her identity before sending six guards with her.

 

* * *

 

            At least with his banishment, he had freedom to roam; even if he wasn’t allowed to trespass into Ice Nation territory. He had no one keeping tabs on him and wasn’t relegated to one building while he wasn’t watched outside.

            Which was the detail of his existence in the Ice Nation Embassy. He was relegated here and if he chose to travel outside the Ice Nation Quarter, he had two guards with him at all times to keep him in line.

            Even if the status of his banishment was pending, he wasn’t forbidden to mingle with some of the people that socialized in the Embassy’s reception area. Roan had to keep his sanity one way or another. It was fortunate that there were people that still recognized him as one of the princes. That he was still recognizable after five years.

            Though Roan wished that some of the people mingling in the embassy would cut down on the flirting. As he considered reciprocating flirtatious overtures as small scale infidelity regarding Clarke, he would politely rebuff. Saying that while he appreciated the attention, that he wasn’t exactly their type. 

            Clarke.

            Roan didn’t doubt that she was given restrictions about her traveling with the Ice Nation bounty still on her head. Though it was for protection rather than the fact that she was associated with the enemy. It was easy to guess that the Ice Nation Embassy was one of the places that she would be forbidden to go. He could understand that but what added to his bitterness was that he was prohibited to get even close to Clarke for a week of his two week hold here.

            It was true that she was the predominate subject of his thought alongside his home, his siblings, and Echo. Though he was guilty of thinking her a little more than the three.

            She was the first person who hugged him in five years; the first person to not judge him for his emotions. Who didn’t see things through supplied lenses.

            The first person to understand him since his younger sister. The only significant other that never saw things through his mother’s perspective unlike Echo. Literally woven herself into his entire being during the three months.

            It was hard to get used to sleeping without her nestling against him. Her heartbeat radiating against his own and her head against his chest. That there was a limb missing from his body, for it was alien to not feel the additional weight against him.

            Watching the snow fall before him as he read, he couldn’t help but think of her. Like snow, she fell from the sky but she was also strong as the winters up in northern end of _Azgeda_.

            A soft tapping on the door brought him out of his reverie; turning his attention away from his book. “ _Come in_ ,” he lazily drawled as he set his book aside.

            Seeing that it was Ambassador Ivan, he sighed in chagrin. He was literally free from his presence for the past few days. Then again, there was that Summit tomorrow initiating _Skaikru_ as the thirteenth clan of the Coalition.

            And it wouldn’t surprise him if his mother had something planned for tomorrow. Even if Ivan knew, he wouldn’t tell him since he’s been away from home for five years.

            “ _I find it ironic that you are going to attend a Summit that is going to initiate the Sky People into the Coalition_ ,” Roan vocalized.

            “ _Your mother insisted I attend to ward off suspicion_ ,” Ivan explained. Though it was like something turned out in his favor. “ _Furthermore, when I entered, I have been told that you are a visitor_.”

            Visitor?

            “ _It better be someone worthwhile_ ,” he spat out.

            “ _Apparently, the Commander of Death has decided to leave the protection of Commander’s Tower and is standing outside this suite with six guards at this moment_ ,” Ivan beamed.

            That alone sent a jolt through him as he perked up. Clarke. Even through the joy that was filling him at the prospect of seeing her, he knew there had to be something to be wary about Ivan being ecstatic about this.

            “ _If you are wondering, I’m not going to take her_ ,” Roan bluntly dictated.

            “ _She’s literally on our soil_ ,” he emitted. “ _If you want your people to honor you back on your return, bring her to your mother. The opportunity is in front of you_.”

            “ _I thought I made my point clear_ ,” Roan spat. “ _I have no intention of the sort. Especially not with guards with her_.”

            “ _If she wanted to speak with you alone_ –”

            “ _I am not my mother but since I outrank you in the embassy, you are committing insubordination_ ,” he fumed. “ _As I said, seizing Clarke of the Sky People isn’t my intention_.”

            Roan marched to the door as he walked past the ambassador. Turning the handle and opening the door to see Clarke standing before him. Her blue eyes slightly widening at the site of him as six guards stand behind her. All eyeing him warily as if they didn’t trust his intentions.

            “ _Enter, Clarke_ ,” he encouraged, gesturing into his sitting room. As she slowly walked past him, Roan turned to Ivan and ordered, “ _Leave us_.”

            “ _Your highness, it might be prudent if –_ ” Ivan started.

            “ _I said leave us_ ,” Roan repeated.

            Ivan hesitated for a few seconds before leaving the room and Roan closed the door behind him.

            She launched herself at him. “Roan,” she breathed as she wrapped her arms around him before kissing him. It was one of need, want, and passion; only to activate one of his own of that nature.

            Clarke wasted no time as she turned to the first fastener of his vest; unlatching it before turning to the one below it. He picked her up. Taking her to the neighboring bedroom so they could continue.

            Even if it was for a short time he would see her for the day, he wanted to make some of it memorable.

 

* * *

 

            “ _Two hours?_ ” Titus stressed. “ _Why not only allow her only one?_ ”

            “ _It’s what she wanted_ ,” Lexa insisted as she put her small pile of books in the bookshelf of her library. “ _She’s never left her room for the past few days. It should do her good. Also, I sent guards with her and gave her fifteen minutes after that to return if she doesn’t come back_.”

            Lexa didn’t want to send her off. She didn’t want to fail her like she did Costia years earlier. Though Clarke was stubborn as she was strong. Had always managed to turn the tide towards her favor when it came to words. That was what she admired about Clarke.

             “ _And you are not worried what might come from it?_ ” he insinuated.

            “ _Why should I be?_ ” she demanded.

            “ _For one, they still have that bounty_ ,” Titus pointed out. “ _They are going to see that your lack of action as weakness, Second, the fact that she seemed to know the crown prince before you sent him after her is troubling_.”

            Lexa didn’t forget Clarke’s outburst when she ordered Prince Roan to be sent to the Ice Nation Embassy. For something that was meant to mean so little, Lexa was floored that Clarke went as far to reach for him before being restrained and knocked out. How hours later, Anya reported to her that the first question that came out of Clarke’s mouth was about Roan.

            It did seem suspicious that Roan presented Clarke to her without restraints when he told her he wouldn’t make promises about delivering her unharmed. That he probably lied about not knowing her.

            It didn’t help either that they might be more than mere acquaintances given Clarke’s persistence to see him. Perhaps more than friends even…

            Though that would be something that was beyond her control. Clarke wasn’t going to pursue a relationship with her from what it looked like, even if she wasn’t as angry with her as she probably was before. Not that Lexa would blame her. She basically left her to her own devices, even if she thought Clarke would come out of it alive.

            Costia literally died for being that close with her. Killing someone for loving a certain person was something that Nia would do. And Lexa didn’t want to stoop to her level.

            “ _I can’t control who she loves and doesn’t_ ,” Lexa spat out. “ _If she knew him beforehand, it’s not my problem. I won’t have to worry about him killing her or seizing her for his mother_.”

            “ _I think their relationship might spell problems, Commander_ ,” Titus broadcasted, his features stern. “ _Even if he doesn’t kill her, he might want her in his possession and that would make Ice Nation practically unstoppable. Therefore making her more dangerous alive then dead_.”

            As if someone put something sour in her mouth, Lexa hissed, “ _Are you suggesting that I kill her_.”

            “ _As I explained, it’s the only logical_ –” he began.

            “ _You are stepping out of bounds, Titus_ ,” she interrupted, the blood reaching her face. Infuriated that he had the gall to even think that she would kill Clarke. “ _Besides, I have to check on the preparations for tomorrow’s Summit_.”

            On the contrary, Lexa would rather have Clarke alive then dead, no matter whose hands she was in. For her commanding death was rooted in her tactical and logical thinking.

 

* * *

 

            She never had intended to go this far when she wanted to see him. That a hug and conversation would be enough to satisfy her. Yet, seeing him before her after a week of not contacting him was overwhelming. For she had the urge to feel him to the point where their skin met.

            And as they lay in bed a few minutes after making love, she couldn’t be more content as she traced her fingers over his torso. Even taking note of some minor deals as she kissed him.

            “They cut your hair?” she noted; seeing that his brown locks was like a few inches shorter then how she remembered it last time she saw him.

            “They were going to touch my face before I threatened them not to,” he mused with a smirk as he brushed her hair away from her face with his hand.

            Clarke snorted. “Good thing they didn’t,” she chimed as she brushed her fingers against the hair of his stubble. “I might have had a hard time recognizing you.”

            “Though it seems like they were merciful to not force you into a bath at the tower back there,” he chortled. “Not that I’m against bathing. It’s rather suffocating to have people scrub you down when you could do it yourself.”

            She smiled and threw back her head to laugh in amusement before bending down to kiss him. When her lips left his, she held her breath. Knowing that the time of seeing him for the day was soon to come short.

            “I only have an hour and a half until I leave,” she pointed out.

            “That’s enough time to talk,” he huskily drawled.

            “Maybe,” she supposed as she lay next to him. “Though I wished it was more. I asked for two hours because I didn’t want to worry Lexa.”

            “Was she afraid that you might not come back out of here?” he guessed, arching an eyebrow.

            “Sounds about right,” Clarke confirmed. “She wouldn’t let me see you at first because of that bounty on my head.”

            “She’s lucky that I’m here and not my mother,” he brought up, “given her intentions.” He pauses, as if thinking something over. “We will figure something out. As you said you don’t feel ready to return to your people.”

            Clarke narrowed her eyes. Didn’t Roan say just last week that he didn’t think he could trust his mother’s word about not killing her? “You don’t trust your mother around me, remember?” she pointed out.

            “There is a way around it, Clarke,” he proposed. “I might not know what it is yet, but I’ll know it when I see it.”

            “How?” she asked.

            “I don’t know if Lexa told you but apparently she plans to initiate your people in the Coalition as the thirteenth clan tomorrow,” he divulged. “In the past, when the Commander has an important event, the queen tends to plan something; as she would want the Commander to be off guard for it to be executed. Not that I know anything but I just know her enough to.”

            A Summit initiating her people to join the Coalition? Lexa never told her but since she didn’t want to speak with her for the week, it shouldn’t surprise her. Not to mention that Anya was most likely in _Trigeda_ for that time period.

            As for his mother doing anything, that was caught her attention. The fact that he had an idea without knowing what she might do was horrifying enough. That she was up to no good.

            Also, what was he getting at?

            “And you are saying this because…?” she trailed off.

            “With the situation as it stands between the rest of the Coalition and Ice Nation, between the queen and Lexa, I wouldn’t be surprised if she would place herself in the vicinity of Polis,” he theorized. “Close enough that they might apprehend her. Now, regarding what might transpire after that depends whether we can work a plan or Lexa takes care of her herself.”

            Even if Roan didn’t say it outright, he wasn’t subtle about what the former might be. Clarke sat up. “You are asking me to conspire to commit matricide,” she deduced. “Didn’t you say that your people won’t accept you if you kill your mother?”

            “I’m not going to fall back on it,” he answered. “Though you are not publicly attached with _Azgeda_ royalty, which I’m counting on.”

            “So you want me to do it?” she asked. “That way they don’t tie it to you, and where does that leave me exactly.”

            “People will assume that it was the aftermath of trying to seize _Wanheda_ ,” he said without a beat. “That it was predictable.”

            He wasn’t trying to throw her under the bus then. That it relieved her.

            “How will we know, though?” she asked.

            “I will send someone to secrete a few things to your room tomorrow,” he answered. “We might not need it but it’s best to be prepared.”

            If this were her five months ago, she would have backed away. That any plan that involved assassination of a political leader was out of bounds. That there had to be other options aside from that. Though she wasn’t the same person she was when she first reached the ground and the fact that his mother would turn back on her word when it came to not killing her.

            As unfortunate as it may seem, the only way for her to come to Ice Nation before coming back for her people was if his mother was dead.

            Knowing that her allotted two hours were soon to expire, Clarke hastily pulled her clothes back on with him following suit; with Clarke running her hands through her hair to hide any indication that she and Roan did more than talk. She hooked his vest back up over his blue shirt before reaching up to kiss him once more. Threading her fingers into his hair as she pulled him closer towards her while his arm wrapped itself around her waist.

            Clarke caught her breath when their lips separated; leaning her forehead against his before he lifted her chin with his fingers.

            “See you soon, Snowflake,” he murmured before kissing her forehead.

            “I hope so,” she said.

            “We will,” he assured.

            Clarke worked her expression to be neutral as possible as she left his private section of rooms; taking the cloak before one of the guards hands before draping it around her as they formed a circle around her. The absence of questions and curious stares relieving her as they escorted her out of the Ice Nation Quarter of Polis altogether.

            The protective circle disbanded when she set foot back into the tower; her cloak removed from her shoulders when it was assumed that she was no longer in apparent danger.

            Having taken the lift ride to the specific floor, Clarke opened the glass doors to her bedroom; only to find out that the couch had an occupant waiting for her.

            The man that she saw standing at the left side of Lexa’s throne the previous week.

            “Welcome back, Clarke,” he greeted. “I see that you returned an hour early then planned.”


	16. Chapter Sixteen

            Clarke froze in place, thrown off by the appearance of this unexpected guest. Like he was waiting for her to return from the embassy. Even if there was the possibility that Lexa sent him here to protect her interests, there was the possibility that it was his own decision. Gustus acted on his own when he tried to frame Raven for poisoning Lexa in order to break apart the alliance.

            “Is there anything I can help you with,…?” she asked, trailing off.

            “It’s Titus,” he introduced. “Lexa’s Flamekeeper. As to why I’m here, I have a few questions for you.”

            _Crap_ , were her initial thoughts. As if she was a child caught by her teacher for disobeying a rule.

            “Have a seat,” he offered.

            Clarke swallowed as she took a seat at the chair next to her. Keeping her hands in her pockets.

            _I’m just going to say that my interactions with him were purely political_ , she thought. _That we were discussing how he could convince his mother to remove that bounty from my head._

            “I was told that you demanded to visit the Ice Nation Prince at the embassy,” he surmised, “despite the fact that they still have that bounty on your head and are a relative threat to the Commander.”

            “It was a political meeting,” Clarke hastily covered up. “Just to see if he was willing to convince his mother to remove the bounty off my head.”

            Titus nodded slowly. “I see. What was important about it that you requested two hours with him?”

            _Oh no_ , she thought. He better not be on to her. He shouldn’t be. “I didn’t know whether he would be difficult or not,” she lied. “I didn’t actually stay that long like I thought. It was only an hour.”

            “What did he say?” he asked.

            “That he will convince his mother to lift the bounty off my head,” she insisted before adding, “but he didn’t guarantee whether she would listen or not.”

            “Typical _Azgeda_ response,” he noted. “They don’t guarantee everything they promise to do, literally covering up any deceit.” After a while, once Clarke thought she fooled him, he added, “Between you and me, I know you’re lying. That you two never engaged in political exchanges. That it was never the purpose of seeing him at their embassy. That the purpose was more intimate and personal.”

            Clarke’s blood reached to surface of her skin as he stood up. “I suggest that you be careful, _Wanheda_ ,” he warned. “Careful with the relationships you choose and keep, for this relationship you have with him spells trouble.”

            _Trouble for Lexa_ , she finished mentally. It was only feasible that he would fear that it might complicate things for Lexa. That the last thing he would want is for her to have association with anyone from Ice Nation, as that might threaten any standing Lexa might have in the Coalition.

            Clarke glared at the back of his head as he walked out of her room. Hands shaking, she picked up one of the books that was provided to her and proceeded to throw it at the wall in frustration.

           

* * *

 

When Lexa invited her for breakfast the next morning, Clarke didn’t refuse. It would be pointless considering that Roan told her about the Summit that was due today. Lexa would have found a way to tell her regardless if she wanted to see her or not.

For the Commander was as persistent as she was.

“Your Flamekeeper was waiting for me in my room when I came back yesterday,” Clarke made note as she cut up the pork on her plate. “He wanted to know the nature of my visit with Roan.”

Lexa pressed her lips together in a thin line. “Why does that not surprise me,” she verified as she rolled her eyes. “He voiced fear yesterday that whatever your relationship you hold with Nia’s son might pose a threat to my power.”

“And do you?” Clarke asked her.

“If you think that I would feel threatened by your relationship with him, you don’t know me like you think you do,” Lexa put forth. “Tensions are high with Ice Nation, I understand, but I can’t let the past repeat itself.”

Can’t let the past repeat itself. She was referring to losing Costia; that her first lover was killed because of her relationship with Lexa.

“Furthermore, this isn’t why I want to speak with you,” Lexa continued.

Of course.

“Today, your mother and the Vice Chancellor will be coming for a Summit this evening,” Lexa started. “Which will induct _Skaikru_ into the Coalition, making them the thirteenth clan.”

“And how will this solve everything with Ice Nation?” Clarke asked, raising her eyebrow. Trying to push away the thought of meeting with her mother for the first time in three months. Three months since she left Arkadia that cold November day. If she could, she could delay that reunion to not face whatever disappointment her mother probably has for her.

“One of the Coalition’s terms is that they shouldn’t attack one of the clans that are a part of it without a justifiable cause,” Lexa explained. “As of now, while _Skaikru_ is affiliating itself with my clan of origin, it is still susceptible to attacks by other clans even with _Trikru’s_ protection.”

“So, you’re saying that if we join, we will be safe,” Clarke deduced.

“Yes,” confirmed Lexa, nodding her head. “For the Summit tonight, you will come before me in front of the ambassadors and other important dignitaries of the thirteen clans and as your first act as acting ambassador, bow before me.”

“Bow?” Clarke asked, narrowing her eyes.

“It’s a political gesture,” Lexa clarified. “As for being ambassador, you don’t have to remain one after tomorrow. For I’m sure that your mother and Vice Chancellor Kane have other ideas of who they would want.”

That alone relieved her. Clarke had been away from them for three months; virtually becoming out of touch. The ambassador should be someone that has been with them in the recent months. As for Lexa choosing her to be acting ambassador –

“You want to show the ambassadors that I can submit to you,” Clarke made known, the idea unsettling her. “That you can control the great _Wanheda_.”

“That is only a front, Clarke,” Lexa pointed out, “just to display that channeling your power shouldn’t require killing you. Besides, you’re not easy to control.” Ending those words in a smile, as if that she was a quality that she fancied.

Thinking it over, it would have been degrading if the “having _Wanheda_ submit” gambit wasn’t a front. “Alright, I’ll bow to you and act as ambassador until they find a suitable candidate,” Clarke conceded.

“Excellent,” Lexa beamed.

Clarke thought about telling Lexa what Roan told her; that his mother was up to something but there was the chance that Lexa was prepared anyway. That she assumed that Nia would do something like she had done in the past. So, there might be no point in telling her.

Lexa left for her weekly meeting with the ambassadors in her throne hall after breakfast while Clarke returned to her room to read. She left the tower for the embassy yesterday; she might as well see some of Polis today.

Perhaps to find some answers to some questions that has been nagging her for quite some time. Like the fact that there was one before Lexa. A question she never asked Roan because she wasn’t sure if he knew the answer.

Also to distract her from the fact of facing her mother today.

Minutes later, as she sat down at her chair, Clarke watched as she saw a body fall past her window.

From the past week, one thing she learned that people being kicked from the tower seemed like a daily occurrence.

Who angered Lexa today?

 

* * *

 

Upon news of Ambassador Ivan’s demise, Roan couldn’t say that he was surprised. If there was any truth to what Afton, the alternate ambassador (each clan had one stationed in Polis in case a ambassador was stupid enough to disrespect the Commander), Ivan’s act of defiance by not sitting down and suggesting that Ice Nation take over if it was Lexa’s weakness showing again reeked of idiocy.

 “ _I am hoping that you don’t humiliate yourself tonight by bending your knee to the Commander during that initiation summit_ ,” Afton voiced after Roan finished his orange juice. “You have another week to come home but you’re still a prince.”

Roan snorted. “ _And be next to having my brains lying on the cement after being pushed from the tower?_ ” Roan scoffed. “ _I’m not that stupid_.”

Afton muttered to himself. “ _It seems they weren’t stretching when they said that you had a rebellious streak before you were banished_ ,” he advertised. “ _And it seems you still have it_.”

“ _I suppose that is what my mother told you_ ,” he resentfully supposed as he left his seat.

“ _And from a few select others who knew you_ ,” Afton added. “ _If I were you, I would be smart and not bow tonight_.”

“ _If I were you, I would_ ,” Roan dictated. “ _If I bow before the Commander, you will also. I can’t afford to have my mother suffer an aneurysm if she heard that another ambassador fell from the tower on the same day the other one did_.”

Not that he was saying it for her benefit. Merely it was because he wanted him to back down, and it succeeded as Afton didn’t say anymore of the matter. Blessed with his silence, it helped enable him to leave the dining area.

The only perk about this political upheaval against the Commander was that there were few guards from the tower were swayed by Ivan’s efforts. It would be easy to secrete certain items to Clarke’s room without interference.

The items in question were easy since they were stored in his designated bedchambers: a knife and a vial of liquefied Nightshade; the _feisbona_ being exclusively grown in the northern stretch of Ice Nation. Otherwise known as Suicide Herbs. It was commonly distributed to the Royal Guard and the army, and kept in a secret compartment in their overcoats. That if they should be captured, they were to eat it before they could allow the enemy to torture information out of them.

He knew that that they would suspect that Clarke had inside help but he wouldn’t be the only suspect. There would be others.

Roan finished writing the note containing the information about the poison before closing the parcel shut. By any indication, the parcel should make it under her bed by noon at the very least.

He had sent the guard from the embassy on his way to the tower doing the chore of summoning guards for his supervised walk.    As taxing as it was to be watched like a common criminal, his sanity was among the things he valued.

The crisp February air surrounded them as they waded through the bustling crowds at the vendors within the quarter. Dimly aware of the notices on the pasty stand; detailing the bounty on Clarke.

Though it wasn’t the only such vendor to display notices. Like they wanted to widely advertise the opportunity to catch her.

How difficult that would be for them. They weren’t going to get her at this rate, though they were the ones who wouldn’t understand that she had help from her friends regarding Mount Weather; given her account of events.

The tower was close in view as well as that statue of the First Commander in front of it upon entering the town’s epicenter. The streets of merchants full of activity. Before sunset, the streets would be clear for the attendees of that Summit and no doubt that they will ratchet up security.

Highly predictable since it would be members of _Skaikru_ coming as well as what they might expect from his mother. She was unpredictable at the worst.

Roan caught sight of Clarke standing at the balcony of one of the nearby buildings. Looking ahead of her before concentrating her gaze of something on the balcony’s ledge.

 _Found something to draw_ , he mentally mused to himself. During the past week, that was most likely thing she did to keep herself occupied. Sketching with charcoal was her main pastime with reading coming second.

What impressed him was that she could think from the top of her head without losing any ideas. A lot like Nymeria, even.

He signaled his guards to stay feet away from him before ascending the stone steps towards where she was standing.

“Decided to use the city as reference?” he asked her.

Clarke turned her gaze away from her sketchbook. Upon seeing him, she shook her head as her lips curled in an amused smile. “I was concentrating quite well until you decided to break it,” she quipped.

“Just fulfilling my promise to see you after yesterday, Snowflake,” he said as he stepped beside her at the balcony.

“That might be considered too soon,” she stressed. “It appears that Titus, Lexa’s Flamekeeper, feels that Lexa’s power is threatened by whatever relationship _Wanheda_ has with the prince of _Azgeda_.”

Why did that piece of information not surprise him? “That shouldn’t surprise me,” he vocalized. “Not with everything that has been going on.”

Clarke exhaled. “Do people on your end of the fence suspect anything?” she asked

One of the perks of being a prince was that he was able to shut down any questions or speculation regarding his relationship with Clarke. Even if people find out, which they will, they didn’t need to know now. “No, because I shut every question down before they even ask,” he answered.

She muttered something under her breath before continuing, “Apart from that, I wish I don’t have to come face to face with my mother today,” she agonized.

He nodded in understanding. In the past weeks before Lexa hired him, Clarke expressed the idea that her mother would be disappointed in her for walking away and being absent for three months. That fear of her facing her mother’s disappoint was what kept Clarke from wanting to return to her home.

“No child leaves their mother after a horrific event like that,” she said on the morning of the New Year. “I definitely made the daughter of the year award for leaving like I did after she nearly had all her bone marrow harvested out of her.”

It could be because his relationship with his own mother was sour (technically beyond sour since he and Clarke were conspiring on possible matricide), as he didn’t have anything harsh to say about her leaving. As for any words about her fear about facing her mother –

“I’m sure what would matter to her was that you are safe,” he assured her, grazing her fingers with his. “She has probably been worried about you for the past few months.”

“Worried and disappointed,” she puts in. “No child doesn’t walk off and leave without telling their parents where they were going. Hell, I didn’t know where I was going either but still.”

 _I’m practically a mere power tool to my mother_ , he thought. Though topping it wasn’t the best response. “Let’s just say that your mother might be happy to see you,” he said, “whereas my mother might be fatigued at the sight of me.”

Fatigued was an understatement. If she wasn’t up to anything, that meant he would have to stay another week before being carted off back to Gara. If she was up to her old tricks and would be close by to ensure its success, well, hopefully, that’s where their plan might come in.

He leaned in to whisper, “I had the items secreted to your room. They should be under your bed at this point.”

She backed slightly away. “I told you that Titus sees our relationship as a threat to Lexa,” Clarke stressed. “If he intercepts that package, he’s going to think –”

“At this time, he’s usually teaching Nightblood Novitiates, from what I hear,” he interrupted, knowing what Clarke was going to say. “He shouldn’t interfere.”

Regarding Anya, Roan wasn’t too worried. The _Trikru_ Ambassador may be loyal to the Commander but she wasn’t irrational and fanatical in her loyalty.

 “Nightblood Novitiates?” Clarke asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Candidates to compete in a Conclave when and if the Commander is voted out or killed,” he explained. “To put it simply, the Conclave is some sort of gladiator fight that ends with one standing.”

Clarke paused, as if thinking over something that she remembered or heard. “I was told that Lexa’s spirit would find the next Commander after she died. I assumed that she meant reincarnated by birth, but I was told there was another before her five years ago.”

Oh, how to explain it. For one thing, it was said in an entry from King William’s journal that Becca had an “infernal piece of tech” inside her neck when she came down from the sky two years after _Praimfaya_. And it was rumored that they used it still, as the Commander has a “Flame” indwelt in them after ascension.

And it was based on this why his mother possessed Ontari in the first place.

“It’s not all spiritual,” he pointed out. “The Commander’s Spirit is said to be an ancient piece of technology from the time before. Basically a successor of the thing that wiped out most of the world’s population in the first place.”

Clarke’s eyes widened. For she most likely didn’t expect that answer. “So, like an A.I,” she deduced. “An artificial intelligence. And what destroyed the world?”

“The last time man technologically advanced, it is said that an artificial intelligence destroyed the world because it feared the world was overpopulated,” he answered. “The First Commander, who was said to have descended down in a pod two years after _Praimfaya_ , claimed that this second model was different from the first model, and that was why my fifth-great grandfather fallout with her.”

Not only that, but his fifth great-grandfather thought that the second A.I. would be a destruction of them all like the first one.

 

* * *

 

The objective from Queen Nia was simple: lure some guards away from the Mountain under the pretense that the Summit in Polis was a trap and therefore enable Cadell, one of the assassins under her command, to activate the self-destruct code that the parasite written on his arm.         

Initially, she thought that it was easier said than done, as the only _Skaikru_ that she had a good relationship was Bellamy and she wasn’t sure if he was going to be there at Mount Weather. The other _Skaikru_ guards would see it as hostile.

They rightfully would though for her plan to succeed, it required deception and they wouldn’t be trusting. Not after what happened with Mount Weather. They were just like them in that regard.

When Echo scanned the perimeter from a tree, she was relieved that Bellamy was there. Sitting on top of one of the Mountain’s doors with a girl that appeared to be _Trikru_. That just made her objective easier.

Though at the same time, it would get Bellamy out of there. He wouldn’t be a casualty. He helped save her from Mount Weather and she would save him. She owed him that.

In Ice Nation, they never would let a debt go unpaid. To do so would be dishonorable.

            Setting away her telescope, Echo knew how easy that attracting the nearby _Skaikru_ Guard’s attention would be easy. So easy that it didn’t require stealth.

            Her plan succeeded when she heard shouts from behind the trees and the sound of bullets clicking into place. The latter sending a jolt down her spine. For it was like she was taken back months ago in that dungeon of horrors when the parasites corralled her and others, who were weary from being drained, in a group and pointed loaded firearms at them minutes before they were set free. If her teeth weren’t chattering then, they were now.

            “The Summit is a trap,” she rasped as she came into view of the Guardsmen; hands raised so that they could see she was unarmed. “The queen had dispatched her assassin there.”

             “Is that a threat, Grounder?” one of them leered.

            “No,” she said. “I am just trying to help.”

            “Like we will believe that,” the other one scoffed. “On your knees.”

            Echo felt like she had no choice to comply. Kneeling as she felt them put restraints around her wrists. If there was a better way of doing this without feeling humiliated, there would but at least Bellamy will be there.

            Her captors lead her out from the collection of trees and as planned, she saw Bellamy rushing towards her. That girl following behind him.

            “Bellamy,” she said in relief, though it felt good to see him. He hadn’t really changed much since the three months that she last saw him. Though he was walking with a slight limp. What happened to his leg?

            “Let her go,” he urged.

            “She was threatening the Summit,” insisted the guard holding her at her left.

            “I was trying to help,” she lied.

            “Shut up” was the reply before she was kicked to the ground.

            “Hey, leave her alone,” said Bellamy’s companion.

            “I said, get your hands off her,” Bellamy insisted as his companion came around. Unsheathing a knife before bending down to cut the restraints.

            “What are you doing?” one of the guards demanded. “She’s a Grounder.”

            The restraints came undone and as Bellamy helped her up, it was like her heart picked up pace at his touch.

            “What are you talking about?” Bellamy asked; interested in what she had to say.

            One of the things about Bellamy was that he seemed trusting of those he made connections with. While it would be something to exploit, this lie was needed to get him out of here. He might hate her for it but he would understand eventually.

            After all, he wouldn’t doubt her story after the Commander left them at Mount Weather months ago.

            “The Summit is a trap,” she lied. “The assassin is already there,” she continued as she watched his eyes slightly widen. “At sundown, your people will die.”

 

* * *

 

            Clarke gazed at the glass vial that was part of the parcel that Roan had smuggled to her room. Turning the vial between her fingers as she read the note that came with the items. Part of it read:

_This poison could only be found in the northern stretch of Ice Nation and often distributed to soldiers and assassins during times of war to prevent them from talking. I could say to spike her drink with it but that would be too risky. It’s best to apply a teaspoon on your sleeve before running a knife against it under the guise of cleaning it of your blood._

_I recommend that you wait until the attendant leaves the room. As to avoid complications._

            She popped the cork from the vial and took a whiff. Clarke slightly backed away, for while the poison had a floral edge to it, the scent burned her nostrils. She placed the cork back into place. Sealing the vial tightly before putting the vial down and picked up the knife. Turning the handle in her hands.

            The knife could have been considered something that could originate from other clans but the poison…when they investigate, they will no doubt come to the conclusion that she had help from someone within Ice Nation; though he wouldn’t be the only suspect.

            There might be others willing to assassinate his mother as well.

            That is if they are able to go through with it.

            Clarke placed the knife back in the parcel; closing it shut and pushing it under her bed. Even with the thoughts regarding any assassination plan and her own mother, she kept thinking about what Roan told her: that an artificial intelligence was responsible for the world ending and how the second version of that A.I. is the Spirit of the Commander.

            How the latter was the start of the conflict between the Ice Nation monarchy and the Commanders down the line.

            The fact that they use a piece of technology was pretty ironic as well considering that the Grounders viewed tech as evil for its duality. Unless they never saw it as tech or made an exception because the first Commander was in possession of it.

            The latter would make sense. They weren’t completely stupid, as they were capable of biological warfare. They knew how the world ended…

            Though the cause of why the nukes were launched were always a mystery to her people. All they knew was that it started with China launching twenty-seven nukes for apparently no reason. That it was so sudden with no one to prepare for it.

            With that in mind, it wasn’t that farfetched that an artificial intelligence would be the cause of it as they were said to be sentient beings before the bombs went off. She remembered watching those movies in the Ark that depicted artificial intelligence becoming a problem for humanity. There were people who believed in predictive programming and perhaps those movies were a form of predictive programming.

            Clarke was about to shelve that for later review until Roan’s mention about the First Commander descending from the sky two years after the bombs.

            _But there were no pods launched from any of the twelve stations_ , she thought to herself. The world was practically still burning and they would…

            Though her thoughts trailed off until something hit her with a jolt. The thirteenth station. It was recorded that as Alpha Station blew up the thirteenth station, some thought they saw a pod descend towards the simmering planet.

            Anya said something months ago that they knew that people were up in space at the time of the bombs but they assumed that they died off as a result of limited resources. Until a pod came down to TonDC fifteen years ago. Suicide by Earth.

            Though the fact that the Grounders referred the Ark as a “Space Castle” was indication that they knew about stations joining together.

            Clarke bounded towards the door. If they were connected by the thirteenth station, she would have to do some digging around here. Who would she ask though? Everyone has their minds on tonight’s Summit. She could do some digging herself, even if it was dangerous.

            She turned the doorknob and exited her room; adrenaline running high when she saw Anya turn round the corner of the hallway and walking towards her.

            “Ah, there you are,” Anya said. “I was about to inform you that your mother and Kane have entered the market.”

            Anya! Perhaps she knew.

            “Anya, how did everyone down here come to the conclusion that everyone in space joined their stations together?” she asked.

            Anya raised her eyebrow. “Partly because we assumed they would,” she answered. “For survival in order to delay extinction. Also…” Anya trailed off, as if she wasn’t sure whether to continue.

            “And what…” Clarke demanded.

            “Come with me,” Anya suggested. “You might understand it better if I showed you.”

 

* * *

 

            They weaved through the alleyways upon leaving the tower. Avoiding the bustling marketplace; unseen by everyone, who were busy making purchases for the day. Clarke took a look between a set of buildings towards the square out of curiosity, though. Averting her gaze seconds later after seeing her mother and Kane at a vendor’s stall.

            The two of them leave the alleyway when Anya approached a dilapidated building. Opening the door and letting Clarke go ahead of her. Stone scrapping against their feet as they descended down steps towards an open door, which was the source of soft candlelight.

            Two people were in the softly room. One mediating by what looked like a two century old space pod and another lighting candles. While Clarke was not religious herself, she felt that she was intruding on sacred ground

            “Gaia, Ivar, I hope I’m not disturbing anything,” Anya vocalized.

The dark skinned girl that was mediating opened her eyes before turning to them. “No,” she answered. “In fact, I was about finished when you came in.” She stood up as she turned her gaze to Clarke. “Why did you bring _Wanheda_ into the temple?”

“Just answering her some of her questions,” Anya answered as Clarke turned her gaze towards a giant blue banner with the white infinity sign with the inscription _Seek Higher Things_.

Gaia narrowed her eyes, as she turned towards Clarke. As if she was distrustful of Clarke’s intentions and not Anya’s. “If _Klark kom Skaikru_ ’s intentions were something to worry about, I wouldn’t let her in here. I trust my judgment.”

“I hope so,” Gaia vocalized. She beckoned her companion as they left the room, but not without casting wary glances at her direction before disappearing out of sight.

“Who are they?” Clarke asked her.

“Flamekeepers,” Anya answered. “They preserve this temple and go out to find Nightbloods after the Conclave. One of them that I just spoke to is Indra’s daughter.”

“Oh, Indra never mentioned that she had a child,” Clarke said, rattled by this piece of information.

“It’s something that Indra doesn’t wish to dwell on,” Anya made known. “It’s painful for her to think about it.”

Painful that her daughter chose to be religious over fighting? Though it did make sense why Indra was willing to place Octavia under her wing; as if she wanted to fill some empty void.

Though they weren’t here because of Indra.

“This pod, did it…?” Clarke trailed off.

“Yes,” Anya answered, walking around it. “This pod carried _Bekka Pramheda_ to her descent to this planet two years after _Praimfaya_. She was in space during the time of the bombs and she came down while the planet was still simmering.”

“Why would she? I mean she was safe up there,” Clarke said before thinking about the thirteenth station. “Unless she was escaping something.”

Anya reached into the pod; pulling out an aged metal briefcase. “If she hadn’t, she would have met the fate of those with her,” she surmised, taking out an aged book. “Kane told me about how your people came together. How one of the stations blew up the thirteenth one for not joining on time. It basically coincides with her version of events.”

That didn’t surprise Clarke. For that would be something Kane would do. He wasn’t repelled by the Grounders like his peers. “Yeah, Alpha Station blew up the thirteenth station at the deadline to join. The other eleven stations followed as they feared it would be there fate if they didn’t.”

Anya nodded as she flipped to a certain page of her journal. “Interesting as _Skaikru_ has most of it right but they are missing some details,” Anya said, passing the opened journal to Clarke.

October 2nd, 2054. A day after Unity Day. Two years after the bombs.

Apparently, Becca had landed by then. Landed “safely with the second version of the code.” That she was met by other people, including a man named Bill, who she described as her friend. Then Becca goes on in a tangent about the day before. That while aboard a station named Polaris, she was injecting herself with a substance before two of her closest companions, her assistant and the commanding officer of the station, came into her lab; wanting to float the second version of the code, as the former told the latter that the first code was the reason why the Earth was lit ablaze by nukes. That they weren’t going to join unless that A.I. was out of their station.

“They didn’t understand that A.L.I.E. 2.0 would help the joined stations. If they just listened, things would have been better.” She wrote at one point. But not before writing about how she escaped to the airlock to the pod and inserting the A.I. in her before escaping. Hearing about two stations threatening to not join as well before taking the pod. “I didn’t see it but I could feel the force of the explosion. How I mourn them.”

“So, they wanted to join,” Clarke said to herself. “Becca was just holding them up.” before saying louder. “No wonder it makes sense why they wanted to join at the last minute. They weren’t defiant.”

“As I said, there were parts that were missing,” Anya said. “Interesting that both our people have that station in common. Titus might disagree but one can’t ignore the facts.”

Clarke turned to the wall. Seeing an illustration of an infinity sign above a woman, who is surrounding by other people.

“Is that her?” she asked.

“Yes and the other Nightbloods,” she answered. “Around that time, she and her friend, who happened to be Ice Nation’s founder, clashed. He thought that the Flame would kill everyone just like its predecessor and that Becca was being a hypocrite for using technology in leadership while leading an anti-technology doctrine.”

Truthfully, it would be ironic. Though Becca might have made an exception with the second code. It might have been of sentimental value for all Clarke knew. “It seems like Becca found trouble regarding the Flame regardless where she was,” Clarke deduced. “Did he know he was proven wrong?”

“Even if he did, it didn’t stop his descendants from continuing to wage war,” she said. “The conflict stemmed from him trying to seize territories of some of the clans that were part of the Coalition, resulting in Becca’s involvement.” She paused. “As for the Nightblood, Becca injected thirty eight people with the drug she created to combat space radiation, though she created another similar serum before that didn’t affect blood color.”

“So, all the Nightbloods fight to see who succeeds the Commander?” she asked.

“No,” Anya answered. “That would be stupid and illogical. We have to keep some Nightbloods aside to produce more. Ensure _Bekka Pramheda_ ’s legacy that way. Live normal lives. Protected, or so we thought as we discovered almost three months ago that the Mountain Men were performing experiments on a few Nightbloods that Reapers managed to snatch. Something they called _Operation Black Heart_.”

The information that was revealed to her was enough to curdle her stomach contents. “Who told you?” she asked.

“Wells,” Anya answered. “When he was pilfering documents from their leader’s office to try to understand why those parasites took the path they did when there were many other options.”

Wells. Another friend that she abandoned. No doubt that he would welcome her back with open arms without judgment after all that they have been through. However, Wells wouldn’t walk away from his friends like she did.

The door opened and a tower guard put his torso into the room. “ _The Commander said that the Chancellor and Vice Chancellor are ready to see Wanheda_ ,” he announced. “ _They will be waiting for her in the Commander’s chambers_.”

Her mother. Clarke could feel the heart pounding in her chest.

“We will be there,” Anya answered before turning back to her. “Are you ready?”

Clarke swallowed. Blood pounding in her ears. Fingers and palms sweaty. “To be honest, Anya, I’m not sure,” she replied. “No child leaves their parents after an event that.”

“If it provides any consolation, your mother was concerned for you during these past months,” Anya assured. “She was relieved when she heard that you were safe. I think she would be more happy then angry at the sight of you.”

Like what Roan said. Clarke nodded, though assurance and Anya’s recent confirmation did nothing to ease the worry and anxiety in her.

 

* * *

 

“ _A rider from the recent outpost near the border notified us that your mother is on her way_ ,” Afton made mention as Roan watched the afternoon sun. There was a pause before he continued, “ _That she wants you home sooner_.”

He snorted as he turned his gaze away from the window. How this confirmed his suspicions, especially given his pause. “ _It’s another reason, isn’t it?_ ” he hinted. “ _I’m no idiot_.”

“ _I apologize, your highness, but I’m on orders not to tell you_ ,” Afton apologetically emitted. “ _For security purposes_.”

It took strong willpower to not knock the table next to him. Of course they would ensure that he wouldn’t know. He was absent for five years. Not trust him enough to. “ _Because she doesn’t trust me?_ ” he demanded. “ _What are you hiding?_ ”

“ _It’s not about trust, your highness_ ,” Afton backpedaled. “ _It’s just that your mother fears that since you have been gone for five years, you wouldn’t understand the context of the situation_.”

“ _I received limited information over the five years and I was able to connect the dots half of the time_ ,” he scoffed, advancing towards the ambassador. “ _Now, tell me why my mother is really going to be nearby_?”

Like he didn’t want to deceive orders, Afton made the run for it. Roan pursued him shortly after, only to lose him.

“ _Bloody coward_ ,” he muttered under his breath. Why, if he had his way, he would have forced that information out of him. As to tell Clarke.

Even if he knew nothing, he had to provide something. Some of her people will be there, like her mother, so he could tell them in some way if he wasn’t able to tell Clarke.

And it was with that in mind that he returned to his bedchambers; writing down on paper with a piece of writing charcoal _The Queen is nearby. I haven’t been given the real reason why, though I should warn you. Due to history, it’s most likely going to rattle the Commander and the parties involved_.

He folded the paper and placed it inside his vest. His people might brand him a traitor for this but there was a way to pass letters without openly presenting them.

Of course, he could tell others. Warn them even that his mother was up to something but considering that he was Ice Nation; the enemy at the moment, they might think he was trying to intimidate or even threaten them.

No matter what he did, his mother’s actions would most likely get himself incarcerated for the night alongside the ambassador.

 

* * *

 

The blood pounding in her ear coincided with the sound of her footfalls against the floor as she followed Anya towards the Commander’s room. How was she going to approach her mother? What was she going to say?

_I am sorry. I didn’t want to experience the pain of my actions just by encountering you every day._

_I was unsure, stupid, and selfish. I wasn’t thinking of the others that might be affected by the events at Mount Weather and decided to wallow in my own misery._

No matter how she said it; well thought out or not, she didn’t know what words to say to her mother. It was a thing that was easier said than done.

Two guards shift; opening the doors to give them access. Occupying the dimly lit room were Lexa, Kane, and her mother. Clarke gulped as the three sets of eyes were turned to her, though it was like her mother’s gaze that was the most painful.

She felt nothing like gelatin as she approached her mother. Who was stepping close to her; her eyes full of relief. With hesitation, Clarke placed her arms around her shoulders in a quick hug. Which was in stark contrast to her mother’s enthusiasm.

For all Clarke knew, she herself was undeserving of this reunion. Too ashamed for abandoning her after everything.

“ _Lexa, give them a moment_ ,” Anya prompted as Clarke withdrew from her mother. She watched as Lexa complied without arguing. Following her former mentor out of the room like a shadow.

Turning to her mother, Clarke gulped. _Here goes_ , she thought. “I’m sorry for leaving you, mom,” she rasped. “Three months ago, I…” she trailed off, exhaling. “I was afraid that being around you would remind me of everything that I did to save you and my friends.” She shook her head. “The opposite of what dad would have wanted me to do.”

            “Your father would have understood, Clarke,” said her mother. Placing her hands on her shoulders. “For one second don’t believe that I’m disappointed you for leaving. Was I scared of what might happen to you during those months? Yes, but disappointed? No.”

            “But that doesn’t make it right,” Clarke agonized.

            “We have done things that we regret,” Kane assured her. “Don’t think that you’re in the only one in this room to shoulder guilt of something that you did.”

            It was easy to determine that he was referring to him advocating for her father’s execution and her incarceration; for the Culling, though Bellamy had partial responsibility on that one.

            “Clarke, I know how strong you become in the last few months, but how did you manage on your own without crossing into hostile territory?” her mother asked.

            Clarke bit her lip, wondering how to proceed. “Let’s just say that I wasn’t alone,” she said. “That I had someone with me.”

            Her mother looked like she wanted to ask but was weighing whether now would be the time or if there was something else that needed to be discussed. “Well, I hope to discuss that later,” her mother said. “As I don’t know how early Lexa’s attendants want to see you before that Summit. Part of me wants to take me home. You don’t have to do this.”

            “I have to,” Clarke insisted. It wasn’t a stretch to see her mother doubt how this would hold considering the Mountain. Though this was different. “What Ice Nation does to Lexa isn’t just going to affect the entire Coalition, but us too. Mainly because we have a known settlement within the Woods Clan territory and maybe others in other territories. If Lexa falls, we fall.”

            Though the back of her mind told her that joining the Coalition might not be enough. Roan did say that his mother was unpredictable and is probably up to no good.

            A fact that Clarke continued to dwell on as she parted from her mother so that Lexa’s handmaidens can prepare her for the Summit.

 

* * *

 

            They were by no means the first ones to arrive but they weren’t the last ones either. For all the ambassadors and important officials from the clan weren’t present when Roan arrived with Afton.

            And unexpectedly, they didn’t make a scene as he would have expected after his mother’s act of provocation. They were immersed with their conversations.

            Though Lexa’s advisor seemed to be troubled by their appearance; for he scowled at their direction before turning to the Commander. Who was dressed in formal regalia that could be suited for something like this; along with protective armor on vulnerable areas of her body. He whispered something to her; something that made her scowl at him, say something, and walk towards her throne.

            “ _There is still time for you to consider doing the right thing_ ,” Afton suggested to him.

            Roan coughed in an effort to hide a strangled snort. He wasn’t going to let this drop, was he? “ _And I thought I made myself clear_ ,” he pointed out. “ _If you want your tongue, I suggest you shut up on the matter_.”

            The double doors opened; the arriving guests being an older man and fair haired woman accompanied by two men in black fatigues. Half the room stopped in mid conversation. Staring intently as the _Skaikru_ entered the room. With some resuming their conversation while others continued to stare.

            The fair headed woman slightly resembled Clarke from his observation. Her mother, perhaps.

            “ _So, they allowed the scum from the sky to join us_ ,” vocalized the Desert Clan’s ambassador.

            “ _What do you expect?_ ” Anya demanded defensively. “ _Their clan is joining the Coalition. Doesn’t its elected leadership deserve to attend?_ ”

            “ _A blight defending these scum_ ,” Afton leered. “ _How I am not surprised. Your ilk might not have any problems with them anymore but that doesn’t mean Ice Nation didn’t_.”

            Roan rolled his eyes before letting out a snort. Was he this stupid to start a confrontation before the ceremony? “ _Stand down, Afton_ ,” he chided. “ _There is a time for irrational decisions and this isn’t one of them_.”

            The ambassador backed away as Roan made his way towards the pair. Aware that eyes were on him. He didn’t understand why people would be worried about it. It was only polite to introduce himself and necessary to warn them. The paper in his hands.

            He could see Anya shifting to where the pair were standing and whispering in both their ears. To identify him as the crown prince as Ice Nation no doubt.

            “I apologize for his stupidity,” Roan said to the pair apologetically. “I only knew him for a few days, though I’m not impressed by what I have seen so far.”

            “It isn’t surprising but I appreciate the gesture, your highness,” the _Skaikru_ man replied. Though civil, his stance was guarded. Though nothing compared to the wary and suspicious glance of the fair haired woman standing next to him. Anya was sending daggers to him before walking away to stand next to the Boat Clan ambassador.

            “It seems that though one of your companions pointed me out to you, it doesn’t mean that I should not introduce myself,” he offered. Holding out his clasped hand to both of them. “I’m Roan, crown prince of Ice Nation.”

            _And I love your daughter_ , he finished mentally, towards the woman. Though that was something that wasn’t meant to be said now. Given the awkwardness of the situation.

             The two exchange glances before the woman offers her hand. “I’m Abby Griffin, the elected Chancellor of Arkadia,” she introduced. Her hand felt stiff in his, though that didn’t prevent him from slipping the note into it.

            “Marcus Kane, elected Vice Chancellor,” Abby’s companion introduced, shaking his hand.

            Elected leadership. He guessed that _Skaikru_ selected these two to lead them and that the members of the Coalition saw Clarke as their leader. They seem to do things differently.

            “Rough landing, I heard,” he noted. “Though from what I hear, everything seems to be civil between you and _Trikru_ at the moment.”

            “Part of it was misunderstanding,” Marcus divulged as Abby stuffed the crumpled paper in her coat jacket. “Though I could say for the both of us that both parties had no reason to trust the other in the beginning.”

            He nodded. At least this guy figured that out. “That was what I got based on what I heard,” Roan answered. “Though, I would like to point out that a portion of your population landed north of _Trikru_ territory. Been causing trouble for the Ice Nation populace.”

            “They are with us now,” Abby sternly made known. “Marcus and others found them south of the border. Your mother evicted then under threat of death, if I heard correctly.”

            “Probably because she was ordered to by the Commander,” Roan pointed out, as there was no other explanation. His mother probably wanted that group annihilated slowly. “As for your people, for their sake, they are probably thankful that they are with you.”

            Even if he wasn’t showing it, the situation was awkward within itself. Especially given these circumstances. Not to mention she might not take it well if she knew her daughter was romantically involved with someone that was associated with the people giving them problems.

            “Now, if you excuse me,” he said. “It was a pleasure speaking with you two.”

            Roan stepped a few feet away from them. Though close enough to see Clarke’s mother uncrumble the note he written. Observing as her eyes widened before sharing the note with Marcus; who went to Anya with it.

            From her body language, she was obviously telling him not to worry about it. As if they were already on guard. With the quick look she gave him, she probably thought his intention was to intimidate.

Everyone stood in place for her arrival to the throne room once someone whispered to Lexa. With the tension and anticipation in the room, he could taste it.

One of the guests began singing the anthem for the Coalition as both guards opened the doors. Everybody turning their heads to see her entering the room. At the sight of Clarke, it was enough that he caught his breath.

She was cleaned up no doubt. Her hair brushed and clean that it appeared soft to the touch. Probably so they could braid her hair with ease. Her blue dress nearly reached the floor and like, Lexa, armor was placed on her abdomen and other key areas of her torso. Like the person who dressed her was trying to ensure that nothing went awry.

Even if it was a stupid move, he couldn’t keep his eyes off Clarke as she slowly made her way to the Commander. Clarke looked breathtaking tonight.

From his peripheral vision, he could see her mother glancing his way. Narrowing her eyes in suspicion. For her to be suspicious there was no doubt that the way he looked at Clarke suggested more then what he was letting on.

As Clarke was before the Commander, she descended. Bending one knee as she lowered her head. A cautious bow of some sort.

Roan, keeping on his own promise, followed suit. Descending and bending one knee. Eventually, everyone followed suit; with Abby and Kane the last ones to bow.

            As the anthem concluded, Lexa called, “Hail warriors of the twelve clans.”

            “Hail Commander of the Blood,” said most of the people in the room. He wasn’t oblivious that Afton didn’t say it, though Roan only said it as it was a decision to spite his mother if she knew.

            “Rise,” she prompted and on her command, they all did. Clarke gave a nod before going over to her mother and Marcus. Yet, she spared him a glance for a second. Her eyes wistful. “We welcome _Skaikru_ to our halls,” Lexa continued, “in a spirit of friendship and harmony. And we welcome _Klark kom Skaikru_ , legendary _Wanheda_ mountain slayer. As you are aware, we are here to initiate _Skaikru_ into the Coalition. To symbolize this union, the leader of _Skaikru_ must bear our mark.”

            Rather than Clarke’s mother coming forward, it was her co-leader. Presenting his arm at Lexa’s prompting. When the white hot metal touched his flesh and as his muffled screams accompanied the burning flesh, the doors burst open.

            Instinctively, Roan rushed to Clarke. Shifting her behind him as three people barged in. An older dark skinned man, a boy, and a black haired girl that could have very well been _Trikru_ given her braids and way of dress. Moments later he recognized the boy, who was holding a guard at gunpoint, as the one who tried to rescue Clarke under the assumption that she was a prisoner.

            Clarke seemed to notice too. “Bellamy?” she asked as she went around him.

            “What is the meaning of this?” Titus demanded, scandalized by the abrupt display.

            “The Summit’s a trap,” Bellamy panted before throwing the guard to the ground. He turned to Clarke. “We need to get you out of here.”

            “What is going on?” Clarke demanded.

             It was Lexa that answered that one. “I don’t know.”

            “It’s the Ice Nation,” Bellamy answered.

            _So, my mother is up to her old tricks_ _again_ , he thought. He wouldn’t put it past her to involve this.

            “These allegations are an outrage,” Afton argued. “The Ice Nation never stormed this Summit with weapons, breaking our laws, that was the _Skaikru_.”

             He was going to point it out to him that he knew something when one of Bellamy’s companions said, “We’re right about this. The two guards you left behind are dead already. We need to go now.”

            “How did you come by this information?” Lexa demanded.

            Stiff silence filled the room as the trio looked around the room. As if there was supposed to be a fourth person with them.

            “Where the hell is Echo?” asked the black haired girl pointing a sword at the crowd.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for not updating this right after the chapter sneak peeks on my Tumblr. I meant to publish this on January, but with being preoccupied with Damnation (as well as it’s undeserved cancellation) and losing interest in the 100 (due to its hiatus), I kept pushing this back. 
> 
> Fortunately, here is the seventeenth chapter. I hope you like it.

Echo? The name sent a jolt to his body. What was his ex-lover doing in placing these people here under false pretenses? Doing his mother’s bidding again without question as always?

            After a second of tension building in the room, Bellamy demanded, “What’s going on? Where the hell is she?”

            “Bell, maybe we were wrong about this,” his female companion pointed out.

            There was the fact that his mother was up to something. A fact that wasn’t strange to the Commander and everyone in her circle.

            “In that case, it’s no surprise,” Roan vocalized. “Seems like you are her unwitting pawns in her scheme.”

            “It was a set up,” Clarke agreed, shifting to where he was standing. “Whatever Queen Nia had planned, it involved you coming here.”

            “I don’t understand,” Bellamy breathed as Marcus came towards him. “Why…I thought I could…”

            “Stand down,” Marcus commanded and without argument the boy allowed him to disarm him.

            There was brief static before a new voice filled the room. Probably from those things called radios that man used to possess. “Bellamy,” said a girl, sounding as if she was trying not to cry. “Bellamy, come in. The Grounders attacked Mount Weather.”

            Clarke’s eyes widened as mutters erupted. He thought he could see a smirk forming Afton’s lips as Bellamy picked up his contraption. If anything, that smirk was enough to curdle his intestines.

            As if unnecessary bloodshed was involved. Casualties happen in war; that was a fact but killing people just to jerk off to it?

            “What are you talking about?” Bellamy demanded. Roan was aware that Clarke shifted her gaze to his direction.

            “It’s gone,” choked Bellamy’s friend on the radio. “It’s gone. They’re all gone. Wells, Sinclair, and I are the only ones left.” She started to break down in sobs. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

            Clarke lowered her head and he could see that her eyes glistened as she blinked. As if any tears or emotional reaction might disable that strong _Wanheda_ image that she was trying to convey tonight. If they were alone, he would be catching her from falling while becoming a sobbing heap.

            Since every living parasite was killed by Clarke and her friends, it was easy to figure out that _Skaikru_ were the casualties. Because who else would occupy the Mountain?

            “You should have never moved your people into Mount Weather,” Afton iterated as he stood in the center. “The Ice Nation did what Lexa was too weak to do.”

            Now, that stupid ambassador did it. His provocative statements are going to incarcerate the both of them. Lexa’s nostrils flared. Her face flushing beet red as she descended the dais; eyes fixed on the ambassador. “This is an act of war,” she seethed before she commanded, “Sentries, arrest the Ice Nation delegation! Including the prince.”

            “No,” Clarke hissed, placing a vice grip on his arms as two sentries came on either side of him. If his mother was nearby as Afton said, most likely she would be captured and Lexa would do a prisoner exchange: imprison his mother before executing her while sending him back home.

            “Don’t,” he warned, feeling everyone’s eyes on them. “Let them take me. It should resolve soon.”

            “But you didn’t do anything,” she choked as her mother and Marcus grabbed both of her arms. “You shouldn’t be punished for your mother’s crime.”

            “Clarke, let go of him,” her mother urged. “You’re already making this more difficult.”

            “No!” Clarke exclaimed, refusing to let go of him as he heard a buzz start. A _Skaikru_ guard approached them with a glowing stick, poking it to her back. He watched as she went slack, her hold relaxing before crumbling in her mother’s hold.

            As he was dragged away, he saw Bellamy, Lexa, Anya, and Marcus approach Clarke’s crumbled form before the doors closed.

            Though Lexa didn’t send him to a cell the first time, this time he was locked in a dirty cell. Chained to the bars like an animal. If anything, he knew that Lexa won’t be as merciful as she was last time.

            At this moment, she probably regretted not killing his mother right then and there five years ago. Something that she should have done five years earlier.

           

* * *

 

            The blood pounded on her ears as Clarke resurfaced in her consciousness. Her vision and the sounds around her blurred before gradually becoming clearer.

            “Clarke?” her mother asked her when she found herself in her room within the tower. Looking at her mother before everything came back to her: Raven’s tearful revelation before Roan being taken from her arms.

            She blinked away her tears as she registered that Bellamy and Kane were standing in the room as well. With the former standing by the door; concern etched on his features as he gazed at her.

            “How?” she asked, the idea of the recent atrocity still a foreign concept to her. Why? How? Why and how did Nia order the deaths of a portion of her people in Mount Weather just to antagonize Lexa?  

            “It’s something that we can’t come to terms with as well,” Kane answered as the blood reached her face and hands at the thought of Queen Nia’s latest atrocity. “Even if we understand the context of the situation.”

            Clarke was glad that Nia wasn’t here. Or she would slice her open from stomach to throat.

            The doors opened and Lexa entered; with Anya at her heel.

            “Are you alright?” she asked with concern.

            Bellamy muttered something under his breath as he fixed a heated glare at Lexa’s direction. Understandably, it was like he didn’t forgive her for what happened at Mount Weather.

            “I would be if I wasn’t shock batoned earlier,” Clarke grunted as she sat up.

            “I did not want that to happen, Clarke,” her mother defended. “He went out of bounds. I have reprimanded him for that course of action.”

            “Have you found out what happened?” Kane asked.

            “I spoke with Wells over the radio five minutes ago,” Anya answered promptly. “Apparently the Ice Nation assassin had a self-destruct code written on his arm.”

            What? Clarke could hardly comprehend what Anya said as everyone around her radius widened their eyes. They knew about and were in possession of the self-destruct code? How? Why?

            “How could they get their hands on a self-destruct sequence?” Bellamy asked. “Most of all, how would they know they even possessed one?”

            “We are investigating it at the moment,” Lexa answered. “At the meantime, all we can do is to plan how to jointly avenge this attack.”

            “Last time you said we would work together, it ended with you leaving us for dead at Mount Weather,” Bellamy defiantly pointed out. “How could we trust you to keep your word this time?”

            “Bellamy,” Kane scolded in warning as Lexa slightly lowered her head. Guilt on her features.

            “If you were in that room, you would have understood why the Commander took that deal,” Anya bit back. “Cage didn’t give her much of a choice.”

            “And you’re going to use that as an excuse for Lexa throwing us under the bus three months ago?” Bellamy demanded.

            Anya opened her mouth –

            “No,” Lexa said, raising her hand. “I would distrust him myself if he made the same decision that I did.”

            While Bellamy was right that Lexa could turn back on her word like the last time, Clarke had a feeling that Lexa wouldn’t this time. That this was a threat that Lexa wanted to vanquish. After all, Roan did say that Lexa only goes back on her word if something changes and if her people are involved.

            With Ice Nation and _Trikru_ ’s bloody history, Lexa will most likely follow through this time. Clarke knew that she had to stay. For her people’s survival. For everyone that she loved.

             “Throwing us under the bus would be like throwing her people under the bus,” Clarke insisted. “This isn’t like three months ago. The circumstances are completely different. I won’t leave until this gets resolved. If we don’t do something, our people are going to want justice.”

            Bellamy nodded, “Yes, but there are other options than the one presented to you. Lexa is looking out for her own people. Even if she does anything, it’s going to be for her own people. Clarke, just come home with us.”

            Home. The thought of it bit her lip. As much as she craved it, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to face the resentment and disappointment from those that she considered her friends. Disappointment and resentment for her leaving when they most likely needed her; for some resentment for her part in the deaths at Mount Weather three months ago.

            She swallowed as she looked at him, the boy who has been through a lot with her during their first month on the ground. One of her friends who had her back. “I’m sorry,” she croaked.

            Those words immediately took effect. Bellamy bowed his shoulders and his eyes glistened as he looked at her like she was completely different person then the one he knew. As if he didn’t know her anymore.

            Clarke watched as he walked away from the room.

            That look on Bellamy’s face before he walked away as well as Roan’s incarceration kept her up that night. As well as the image of Mount Weather exploding, incinerating some of her people inside.

 

* * *

 

            Raven held on tight to him as they and Sinclair returned back from the smoking wreckage of the underground facility that imprisoned them; where the survivors of Farm Station inhabited before getting incinerated in cold blood. Her body shaking with sobs while Wells tried to compose himself.

            Like a broken record, that image replayed itself. Over and over. The image of the complex door exploding followed by the odor of burning corpses. It wasn’t just that that haunted but the fact that they were the only survivors of a large group residing in the complex.

            Just the three of them out of fifty-two people.

            And for what? Because the Ice Nation wanted to make a point? To prove that they were the strongest of the Coalition?

            Shouts greeted them when they passed Arkadia’s gates and Sinclair threw the passenger door open after disembarking from the driver’s seat.

            “What happened?” Mrs. Green demanded as he stumbled out of Raven’s Rover. “Charles said that they were given a lead about a trap in the Summit.”

            “No,” he choked, as Raven sobbed in the background. “Some Ice Nation Grounder misled us into believing that the Summit was a trap. Actually they turned Mount Weather into a bomb. Everyone inside there is dead.”

            “Oh my god,” Mrs. Green gasped as Lincoln ran into view with Jasper right behind him.

            Lincoln offered his arms. “Give me to her,” he offered. “You look like you might fall over.”

            “You don’t need to,” Mrs. Green spat out, glaring at him.

            “Come on,” Jasper insisted. “He’s one of the good guys, Mrs. Green. You knew him for a week.”

            “A week is not enough, Jasper,” Mrs. Green grimly pointed out.

            Even with Mrs. Green’s skepticism, Lincoln was able to take Raven from his arms. Following Wells to Raven’s compartment.

            “Any indication what might happen?” Wells asked as Lincoln placed Raven’s violently shaking form onto her bed. Lincoln was _Trikru_ and fought with the Ice Nation. How Wells saw it, his intake was most needed.

            Lincoln paused, as if he was wondering to proceed. “Destroying Mount Weather with dozens of _Skaikru_ inside will no doubt be an act of provocation,” he answered. “No doubt that the Commander is speaking with the war chiefs of each clan at this moment. As for here…” he sighed. “The remnants of Farm Station are already shaken from their time in Ice Nation. This will rile up not just them but almost everyone in this settlement. It doesn’t help that there are people here who see my people synonymous with mindless savages.”

            Wells nodded, knowing that if he didn’t like it, Lincoln had a point. Despite _Trikru_ offering them sanctuary here after Mount Weather, despite _Trikru_ allowing them to hunt on their territory, the general consensus was that they weren’t to be trusted. He could understand that but they reached civility with them. Interacted with each other like they were one clan.

            Though that might not matter to some people after this. They will snap and though Wells didn’t want to believe it, Bellamy would be susceptible. He lost someone that he loved and was betrayed by someone who he made a connection with.  This will be personal and Wells dreaded the volume of his anger.

 

* * *

 

            Clarke woke up early that morning. Gritting her teeth to stay awake after a night with little to no sleep. Rubbing her eyes as she opened the trunk of clothes that was supplied to her. Her mom left her a bundle of clothes from Arkadia. Stowed in a bag under her bed, though touching them might be unpleasant. Reminding her about the people she left behind.

            So Clarke slipped on a pair of aged leather pants and a long sleeved blue and brown tunic. Brushing her hair afterwards before restraining it at the top. Like how it was in the first month after she landed.

            As she ate breakfast, she pondered her food in thought. Thinking about how it was possible that Ice Nation could know about and have access to Mount Weather’s self-destruct code. It was one of the things that plagued her aside from the thought of Roan in that cell along with the Ice Nation Ambassador and the look on Bellamy’s face before he walked out.

            The only reason they could possibly know about Mount Weather’s self-destruct code is that they were told by someone who lived there. Who worked in the higher ranks.

            _But that couldn’t be right_ , she thought. _Everyone in Mount Weather is dead…unless_.

            Her mind unwillingly turned to that fateful night when Lexa left them to their own devices. The tinge of regret on Lexa’s eyes compared to the sickening smirk on Emerson’s face.

            Emerson! She remembered wondering why he wasn’t succumbing to the radiation when Lexa brought him outside. Last time Clarke knew, they had to put him in an airlock to protect him from the radiation before then. Unless he was given enough bone marrow to render him resistant.

            Just as Clarke started to determine why, the door opened and Anya stood at the doorway.

            “Yes, Anya,” she asked.

            “Lexa is calling for a mandatory meeting of the ambassadors in ten minutes,” she answered. “Polis Guards caught the Ice Nation Royal Coach entering the city. Nia didn’t seem to deny her hand Mount Weather’s destruction. In fact she was gloating about it.”

            “Probably because it involved loss of life,” Clarke deduced, feeling sick to her stomach about it. Why kill _her_ people just to spite Lexa? And with the help of a Mountain Man to boot.

            “Exactly,” Anya agreed. “If things go as planned, Lexa hopes to execute her for war crimes against a third party and send Roan back home. Knowing Nia, she might have something in her sleeve as always. She’s unpredictable.”

             Anya wasn’t wrong as even if they knew Nia might plan something yesterday, they didn’t expect her to carry out that. When they were walking to the throne hall ten minutes later, Clarke explained, “About Ice Nation possessing the self-destruct code. Is it farfetched to believe that Emerson went up to the Ice Nation and gave it to them?”

            “Actually, I was thinking the same thing,” Anya agreed. “It is the only possible explanation. I hope he didn’t get too comfortable up there, because in Nia’s point of view, he’s probably outlived his usefulness by now. If Nia is deceased at the end of the day, hopefully Roan is smart enough that as his first course of action as king of his clan he delivers Emerson to Arkadia so your elected leadership can punish him how you see fit.”

            Logically, his people would expect his course of action to be whether how he was going to tackle the subject matter of her. Technically, she still had that bounty on her head. There were probably people in _Azgeda_ who called for her blood or wanted to covet her like some type of trophy.

 

* * *

 

That night, sleep was hard to come by, especially when he saw his own mother marched into the cell that he and Afton were incarcerated in. if he had the ability to evaporate on the spot then, he would have. For her presence was a reminder of why he was here.

            “You don’t look thrilled to see me, Roan,” she stated as she was chained to the wall across from him.

            “Not after what you pulled got me and your ambassador incarcerated in this filthy dunhole,” he spat out.

            “You realize that what I did was for the greater good,” she defended. “Not just for Ice Nation but for the entire Coalition. You don’t want a weak Commander to run things, do you?”

            Roan snorted and scoffed. He and his mother had different ideas of what qualified as weakness. “You really want to kick the hornets’ nest, do you mother?” he spat out. “You do realize that Lexa will not show you the same courtesy she did five years ago.”

            “If that hasn’t escaped you, handing you over was the humiliating part of my reign,” she challenged. “Do you realize how it almost broke me to send you away?”

            Roan couldn’t help but stare at her in disbelief. It was true that she was very furious when she arrived back. Angry to the point of tears. Though how he saw it, it was she felt humiliated of having to answer to the Commander and bending that knee to her. Not because she was furious at losing him.

            “Lexa didn’t specify which child you should banish,” he pointed out. “You chose me to be the one to leave.”

            “It was because I knew you could handle it,” she maintained. “That you would survive.”

            It was her manipulation games again. Doing something before wrapping it in nice packaging for all to see. She did it enough to make it appear that it was tough love when in reality was that she viewed him as expendable.

            Upon first light, three sentries came towards their cell. “The Commander is having a mandatory meeting of ambassadors,” one of them stated, looking at Afton. “As protocol you have to attend.” She turned to him and his mother. “While the two of you will also be brought to the Tower alongside Afton, him and the prince will be ushered to the throne hall at the same time while the queen has to wait until she’s brought in before the council.”

            Her lips curled into a smirk. “All in good time,” she stated. “No rush.”

            If he learned from experience, that was not a good thing.

            Back in the present, upon being escorted into the Commander’s throne hall alongside Afton, the fact that there were thirteen seats instead of the usual twelve was predictable.

            Though it was also predictable that the thirteenth seat was situated next to the _Trikru_ seat across from him. like it was purposely situated there

 

* * *

 

            Clarke filed in after the ambassadors into the Commander’s throne hall. The first thing she noticed was that the Ice Nation Ambassador was present after being incarcerated last night. It was a mandatory meeting, so it would be logical that he would be present.

            She followed Anya, hence she was told that they be seated next to each other. Logical as she couldn’t see Lexa placing her next to where the Ice Nation Ambassador was being seated or an ambassador from a clan that she wasn’t familiar with.

            It was before she sat down that she realized that her seat was nearly across from where Roan was kneeling. His hands shackled in front of him as two sentries were behind him. She had half the mind to go over and attempt to take the chains from his wrist, but she knew better not to.

            Clarke could only glance at him as she sat down in the wooden chair. Gripping the armrests with her hands.

            She tapped her sweaty fingers against the wooden armrest. The blood pounding in her ears when the sentries open the doors. “ _All rise for the Commander_ ,” prompts one of them. Clarke and the other ambassadors rise from their seats as Lexa made her way up the dais to the throne.

            “Sit,” Lexa said once she faced all of them. Gradually, they followed suit and Clarke swore that she could taste tension in this small room.

            Lexa looked around; gazing at Clarke for a few seconds before turning her full attention to the audience before her. “Ambassadors of the Coalition,” she started, “today we honor our covenant. The clan that stands against one of us stands against us all.”

            Titus gestured to the door, “ _Bring in the accused_.”

            As if on cue, the doors opened and chains jingled as two guards bring in a woman that could be in her late forties or early fifties. Gazing at everyone in the room. Her blue eyes cold enough that looking at her could send chills down your spine. Her round golden pendant shining from her chest.

            Queen Nia gazed at Roan, who looked indifferently at her, before turning to stare defiantly at Lexa as she’s pushed to her knees.

            “Queen Nia of _Azgeda_ has confessed to the destruction of Mount Weather,” Titus announced, “resulting in the death of forty-nine members of _Skaikru_. _Wanheda_ , what say you?”

            As eyes turned towards her, Clarke swallowed. She didn’t want to disappoint her people any further after leaving them. “ _Skaikru_ demands justice,” she replied.

            “ _Azgeda doesn’t answer to this girl_ ,” Nia spat out, glaring at her.

            “ _Silence_ ,” Titus commanded; prompting Nia to turn her ice cold gaze at him. “The punishment for your crime is death.” Murmurs filled the room as Clarke gazed at Roan. His expression unreadable. “Do you have anything to say in your defense?”

            Anya swore under her breath as Clarke couldn’t help but glare at Titus. There was nothing for Nia to defend about being responsible for the death of forty-nine members of her people. What was Titus playing at?

            “I need no defense,” Nia defiantly asserted, glaring at Lexa. “She does. Today is judgment day. I call for a vote of no confidence.”

            A vote of no confidence. If Clarke didn’t know better, she would have assumed that her words would have no effect, though it was best not to underestimate Queen Nia’s abilities from what she heard. Lexa tilted her head down, yet keeping her gaze on Nia.

            “Take this queen to meet her fate,” Titus ordered, pointing at her.

            The sentries approached her as one of the ambassadors stood up. “ _Not so fast_ ,” he grumbled as Clarke could see Nia’s lips curling into a triumphant smirk. “ _Commander no longer_.”

            A second ambassador stood up. “ _Commander no longer_.”

            Clarke watched as ambassadors stood up. The three words echoing around the room. Titus at one point tried to have them apprehended, though Lexa ordered him to stand down. To allow Nia to make her move.

            The only ambassadors that didn’t stand up were Clarke herself and Anya. The latter sending a deadly glare at Nia’s way. If looks could literally kill, Anya would have Nia six feet under by now.

            Anya’s defiance was enough for Nia to notice. “I am hoping that you are sensible enough to recognize that your former second has allowed herself to become weak,” Nia said to her.

            Clarke’s heart pounded as she watched Anya stand from her seat. The woman not removing her defiant gaze from Nia. Titus was staring at Anya with wide eyes and raised eyebrows, though the same wouldn’t be said for Lexa. Like she knew Anya better then what Titus probably thought.

            “It seems that you and I have a different view of what qualifies as weakness,” Anya spat out. “You have to have unanimous votes to unseat the Commander, Nia. You are short of two.”

            Nia scoffed. “It doesn’t surprise me that you would come for Lexa’s defense,” she accused. “In fact, I was counting on that.”

            “Have something under your sleeve as always, you slimy cockroach?” Anya leered, stepping towards Nia.

            “Anya, stand down,” Lexa commanded.

            Anya glared at Nia before taking her seat next to Clarke. Who watched as Lexa stood from her throne. “In that case, we both know what you really want, Nia,” Lexa pointed out before descending from the dais. Nia smirking as if Lexa was wittingly becoming a part of her playbook. “If you think me unfit to command, issue the challenge and let’s get on with it.”

            “Very well,” Nia conceded, “you are challenged.”

            “And I accept your challenge,” Lexa replied.

            “So be it,” Titus announced. “ _Single combat_. Warrior against warrior. To the death.” He turned to the Ice Queen. “Nia of _Azgeda_ , who do you chose to be your champion?

            No. Clarke looked at Roan before looking at Nia again. She didn’t need to hear what will be said to find out.

            “My son, Roan,” Nia declared, turning her gaze to him. “Crown prince of _Azgeda_.”

            “No,” Clarke choked in a whisper, about to stand from her seat despite Anya grabbing her shoulders to prevent her from doing so. Roan turned his gaze to her before turning to his mother. As if he was silently wishing that she didn’t notice Clarke’s reaction. In fact, Nia’s gaze of intrigue to Clarke said otherwise.  Like this was an interesting turn of events that she didn’t expect.

            One that sent a shiver down her spine.

            “ _Heda_ , who will fight for you?” Titus inquired.

            Clarke bit her lip as Anya fidgeted in her seat. The latter looking desperately at Lexa as if she wanted her to choose wisely. In answer to Titus’s question, Lexa turned back to her throne and sat down. “ _I am the Commander_ ,” Lexa answered. “ _No one fights for me_.”

            “Lexa, no,” Anya exclaimed in protest as Nia’s lips curl into a triumphant smile. “Have me fight in your place, Commander. You’re only letting her win by offering yourself in this challenge.”

            “You mean well, Anya, but this is my fight,” Lexa replied. “Only a weak leader hides behind another to fight.”

            “I am positive you will be biting back your words in your own blood, Lexa,” Nia taunted.

            For one thing, Clarke knew that Lexa wasn’t wrong. It was weak and cowardly to fight and hide behind another warrior. In Nia’s case it was worse as she chose her son for the third time in a challenge.

            As Clarke and Roan gazed at each other as the latter was led away behind his mother, the former lowered her head to wipe away the tears streaming down her cheeks as she breathed shallowly. One part of her scolded that she shouldn’t have this reaction; that Roan’s odds were excellent. He mastered at combat and killed three scouts from his own clan in the time it took the first one to hit the ground. Though Lexa’s death was an outcome that Clarke wanted to avoid.

            Though another part feared that if he displayed one vulnerability, Lexa might exploit that to kill him. And that was what scared Clarke.

            She can’t lose him, because he was another piece of her.

            But she couldn’t lose Lexa either because as long as Lexa was alive, her people would be safe from the wrath of Ice Nation.

 

* * *

 

            Raven swore under her breath as she tore apart her compartment. Desperately looking for Finn’s urn; which was in her compartment before breakfast. Only to disappear when she came back.

            _It was here_ , she thought urgently. _Please don’t tell me that I’m insane_.

            Hands shaking, she grabbed the headboard of her bed and flipped the bed over. Standing back as she ran her hands through her hair. Tears streaming down her face. Why? Why did this have to happen a day after Ice Nation decided to kill forty-nine of her people, including Gina, because they wanted to finish what they started after failing to kill all of Farm Station?

            She should have done more. She should have stayed with Gina and if she did, she wouldn’t have died. She would have killed that Grounder before he could do anything.

            _Knock! Knock! Knock!_

            “Go away!” Raven wept, wiping her eyes.

            “The Chancellor wants us there to help set up the memorial,” Wells said from the other side of the door.

            “I said go!” she shouted. Shaking as she grabbed a radio before proceeding to hit it against the door before crouching to the floor in a sobbing heap. Raven didn’t want anyone to be around her. Not even her own friends. For she would rather wallow in her bubble of grief and despair.

            The door handle turned open and a pair of footsteps came towards her.

            “Hey,” Wells whispered softly. His warm hands touching her shoulders before enfolding her in his embrace. “I am here. It’s going to be okay.”

            “I-I s-sho-uld h-have do-ne more!” she wailed as she sobbed into his shoulder. “I-if I s-stayed with h-her, none o-of this w-would have happened!”

            “Their deaths are not something to beat yourself over,” he insisted. As she looked past his shoulder to see Bellamy leaning against the doorway. “Nothing you could have done differently would have changed everything that happened last night. He would have killed you too.”

            “Also, you’re not the only one to blame yourself for what happened,” Bellamy pitched in from the doorway.

            Survivor’s guilt. Raven guessed that a few people, not only herself, would be feeling shades of this.

 

* * *

 

            “Why couldn’t that bitch fight Lexa herself?” Clarke vocalized as she paced in Anya’s quarters of the second floor of the _Trikru_ Embassy. “I mean, she hates her guts so much, why not do it herself instead of having her own son do it for her?”

            “Because she knows that Lexa will kill her in the ring,” Anya pointed out. “Which is why she chose to hide behind someone that has better odds of winning then her, which is concerning. Before his banishment, I heard that he’s excellent at combat.”

            “Yeah, he killed three scouts in the time it took the first to hit the ground,” she confirmed as she sat down.

            “Which is why I’m worried that he might emerge as victor in this,” Anya vocalized. “Lexa won her Conclave at fifteen a few years ago but he’s a few years older, more likely more experienced at combat, and from what I heard, was under his mother’s tutelage. It was one of the reasons why I tried to talk her into having me fight for her. I doubt that Titus had little success. Hopefully you can talk her out of it before the challenge.”

            The challenge was an hour after noontide. As for convincing Lexa, Clarke doubted that she could actually convince her not to. For she was stubborn as she was.

            Clarke knew there had to be something to stop this challenge, as either Roan or Lexa dying wasn’t what she wanted. She didn’t want one of them to have the other person’s blood on their hands.

            Though there was something. Something that she and Roan discussed earlier regarding his mother along with a discussion earlier. Roan told her a month ago that _Azgeda_ performed Blood Oaths to symbolize the union between two groups or two people. Something they did to solidify alliances, the bond of spouses or a second and their mentor…

            Clarke got up from her seat and walked towards the door.

            “Where are you going?” Anya demanded to her. “Trying to talk her out of it?”

            “Something like that,” Clarke answered as she left the sitting area and descended the stairs towards the reception area. Within fifteen minutes, she was in her room in the Tower; placing the knife in her boot before placing the vial of poison in her shirt. She wouldn’t need the entire contents. Just enough on her sleeve. That way she could appear like she was wiping her blood off the knife.

            As Clarke approached the doors to the throne hall, she stopped as it opened; allowing a group of children, around the age of twelve, to pass. With Titus following them. He stopped for a moment, narrowing his eyes at her in suspicion before following them.

            Looking into the throne hall, she saw Lexa settling into her chair. Her features pensive. Talking her out of this won’t be successful. Though she wanted to give Anya the assurance that at least she tried.

            Walking in, Lexa looked up; lightening up as she saw her. “I was wondering when you would come talk,” she mused. “We have a few hours before I am set to get ready in the arena.”

            “You don’t have to,” Clarke said. “I know you have other warriors here that might be willing to fight for you. Why not pick any of them?”

            Lexa stood up. “As much as I appreciate the concern, like I said, I will not,” Lexa challenged. “I don’t want Anya and others to risk their lives fighting my conflict. Something that Nia might never understand as her son is practically expendable.”

            Lexa wasn’t wrong about that but still. Clarke could try and prod her further. To give her reasons to reconsider but as she had little time before the challenge, she couldn’t as she had her main objective to carry out.

            “I see,” Clarke nodded, making it seem that she would have no choice but to accept Lexa’s decision. “I hope that whatever happens, my people will be protected.”

            “I swore every one of my novitiates to honor our Coalition as it stands,” Lexa assured with a smile.         

            As Clarke turned away, at least she could give Anya the idea that she tried talking Lexa out of it.

           

* * *

 

“Focus, Roan,” his mother dictated as they were led through the open city streets by two of Lexa’s sentries. “You’re here to practice. Remember, anticipate her reflexes. When you feel overconfident, you forget that your enemy has strengths too.”

            Roan snorted. He knew that. Would he get overconfident if he felt like his odds were excellent? He wouldn’t deny that. He was excellent at fighting but he didn’t need his mother to harp on him with information that he already knew.

            Especially concerning a fight that she should do herself.

            “I don’t need your help,” he spat out, wishing that she should just shut up.

            “You’re upset that I chose you,” she deduced.

            “I’m not surprised,” he pointed out. “This isn’t the first time that you placed me in an arena for a challenge. This is the third time you have.”

            “Only because I know you won’t fail,” she justified. “When you kill Lexa, your banishment will be over. In the wake of your victory, our people will be more powerful than ever. Your brother and sisters will be proud of your accomplishment. That will be your legacy and your legend.”

            Roan couldn’t help but raise his eyebrow at her as they stopped at the arena where the platform holding the chairs for the ambassadors and other clan dignitaries sat. His legacy? Of killing someone that his mother had beef with? Living out her conflict through him? Yeah, that hasn’t surprised him at all that she still had that aspect. Oh, how he wished that she would stop pretending that she does everything for him and his siblings when it was for her own best interests.

            His mother studied him, like a lion pondering her next move. “I saw that _Wanheda_ wasn’t pleased either that I chose you,” she pointed out.

            _Oh shit_ , he thought as the blood drained from his face. If she figured out what their relationship was within that few seconds, he and Clarke were in for it.

            Hoping to go off as coy, he snorted. “Why would she be?” he scoffed.

            She pressed her lips together in annoyance. “Don’t play coy with me,” she scolded. “That panic she displayed could only come from someone who was frightened at the notion of their lover going into battle. It’s easy to figure out that you two have that bond.”

            “What’s it to you?” he demanded. Wishing for her to leave so he could practice. So, she wouldn’t reveal what she cooked up.

            “You are overdue to find your spouse, Roan,” she justified. “ _Wanheda_ won’t be under Lexa’s protection once she’s dead. How would you like it if we take possession of her after this challenge? Give her to you as a gift. I know you wouldn’t pass it up.”

            He could feel the contents of his stomach twisting at that notion. Marrying Clarke was one thing, an option that he wouldn’t deny under different circumstances. Yet, since his mother offered Clarke to him like a shiny trophy made it sinister.

            If they were to get married, he would make sure that Clarke was okay with it. That he had her consent. Taking her to Gara against her will wasn’t an option. Even if she expressed desire to follow him to Ice Nation. She probably planned to go willingly.

Regarding the notion of possessing Clarke, he knew that his mother was salivating at the idea of possessing her within her royal court as to exert her rule. Not that his mother was doing it for him.

            “As much as I appreciate the offer, I decline,” he refused. “Taking her would be like kicking a hornet’s nest. Also, don’t pretend you do anything for me, mother.”

            “You’re right”, she acknowledged. “Everything I do is for  _Azgeda_. What’s good for  _Azgeda_  is good for you.”

            How did that not surprise him?

            “As for bagging _Wanheda_ , I’m afraid that you’re underestimating our abilities,” she proposed as the shackles were removed from his wrists. She looked towards one of the guards. “My sword.”

            One of them stepped forward, placing the sheath in her hands. Offering it to him.

            “If you won’t fight for your mother, or your queen, fight for your clan,” she said as he took the sword from its sheath. Mainly to get her off his back. “I want her head.”

            As she walked away, Roan couldn’t help but glare. All this bloodlust she has for the Commander. And the fact that she was willing to throw him under the bus for it…he knew his mother would despise him for it but it needed to be said.

            “Mother,” he called.

            She stopped in her tracks and turned towards him. “Yes, Roan?”

            “If you want to prove that you are stronger than her, why not fight her yourself instead of choosing me?” he argued.

            “My strength isn’t the one in question,” she claimed. “Hers is.”

            “While that may be true, others might not see it the same way,” he replied. Watching her closely in order to see if her reaction is the desired result. “Up in Ice Nation your strength might not be but down here, there will be people that will see you choosing me as champion as a sign of weakness. That you’re hiding behind me because you know that Lexa will filet you if you do it yourself.”

            Her face flushed as she clenched her jaw; with the veins throbbing from her neck as she glared at him before storming off. Roan only smirked at the back of her head, as pissing her off was his objective.

            As he practiced some knife tricks with the sword as he thought he saw a hooded figure passing the arena towards the Ice Nation Quarter of Polis.

            If it is what he thought it was, he hoped that she executed it as he explained. Hoping that the attendant wasn’t there.

 

* * *

 

            For all Bellamy knew, even if Pike said otherwise, he didn’t think that Lincoln should refrain from pressing charges on Gilmer for assaulting him by throwing a rock back at the memorial.

            Lincoln didn’t kill Gina. Lincoln didn’t blow up Mount Weather. Lincoln didn’t leave his people to die at the Mountain because he was presented with a deal. In fact, Lincoln, aside from Nyko, was the only Grounder that was ever civil with his people.

            There was Anya but the problem was that she was loyal to the Commander. If Lexa wanted to attack them, Anya would flip to her side without problem. As much as he respected her for her effort on maintaining the truce, there was the possibility that she could revert to that paranoia she possessed when they landed.

            Speaking of flip-flopping, there was no way that the peace keeping force out there would keep their word to protect them. For all Bellamy knew, they could easily turn on them. Not with outright violence but by blocking them from food and water. That’s what Lexa wanted to do if they didn’t leave after the massacre and what Tristan wanted to do if they didn’t hand Finn over after seventy-two hours.

            _The Ice Nation killed Gina. Not Trikru_ , argued the logical part of his mind. That was true but _Trikru_ killed thirty-seven of his people before the rest landed. They started this war the moment they speared Jasper.

            Why couldn’t Kane see that? Why couldn’t Wells see that? Why was Clarke so blind in making a deal with the one who left them to die? Also, what was with her trying to stop two sentries from trying to apprehend the man that kidnapped her and forcibly brought her to Polis? It takes about a week for Stockholm Syndrome to start, so that wouldn’t surprise him.

            Though he kept in mind that Octavia would be just as defiant as he approached the gate in response to Harper paging him about O wanting to leave the safety of Arkadia. Probably to join that army surrounding them.

            “Octavia, there’s an army out there,” Monroe pointed out.

            “That’s where she’s going,” Bellamy alleged.

            Octavia turned to Harper and Monroe in disbelief before turning away in exasperation. Why wasn’t he surprised?

            “O, what are you doing?” he asked as she walked past him. “You know it’s not safe out there.”

            She turned towards him in response. “It’s not safe in here,” she insisted. Octavia walked towards him. “Not for me. Not anymore.”

            How could Octavia trust the very people who tried to kill him and her friends over her own people? He knew she didn’t feel like she was one of them but still. She had him.

            “How could you still trust them?” he demanded.

            “What are you talking about?” she asked in disbelief. “That’s _Trikru_ out there. Indra.”

            _Did you spend those days half asleep_ , he thought as he pointed out, “They’re all Grounders. Your friends in _Trikru_ betrayed us too. They abandoned us in Mount Weather. They killed thirty-seven of our friends before then.”

            “What about Lincoln?” she insisted.

            “Lincoln’s different,” he pointed out. After all didn’t Clarke tell him that Lincoln told her that _Trikru_ was in the wrong for attacking his people?

            “Yeah, tell that to the guy who split his head open today and the people that defended him,” Octavia exclaimed.

            “That shouldn’t have happened, no question,” he replied, “but when our lives are on the line, Pike’s people will have our backs. Can you honestly say Indra would? Or Tristan? Or even Anya for that matter?”

            Octavia shook her head as she backed away without a word before turning her back towards him. Walking away.

            Hopefully, even if it was a longshot, there might come the time that Octavia might understand. Understand that _Trikru_ never think in their interests but in their own. True, they allowed them to hunt and live off their land; allowed them to grow their food but they had to follow their rules.

            They weren’t fully independent.

            Bellamy crossed towards the station as Pike crossed to him. “I could use a drink,” he commented. “Mind if you join me?”

            A drink. Oh how he could use one now.

 

* * *

 

            _I’ve failed_ , was her thought as Ontari, Nia’s handmaid, threw out to the mud in the back door at the embassy; minutes after smearing the black blood on her face that was dribbled on moments after her assassination plot was discovered. She was supposed to wait until Nia was alone. Alone as no one interfered.

            She knew that her plan might be in for failure the moment that she saw a girl pouring a beverage from a pitcher into Nia’s cup. Though Clarke prayed that she wouldn’t notice. She was wrong, for that girl was probably trained to smell and identify poisons.

            Her heart pounded on her chest as she approached the Commander’s Tower, wondering how to explain to Lexa that she tried to assassinate Nia behind her back. No doubt that she will be incarcerated for her attempt to intervene so a challenge wouldn’t happen.

            She met with Anya upon entering the tower and though she was disturbed at Clarke’s attempt to sabotage the challenge, it was nothing compared to Clarke’s revelation about Nia being in possession of a Nightblood. A Nightblood that Nia hoped to succeed Lexa.

            As she stood in the throne hall, Clarke stood still as Titus ran his fingers against her face to inspect the evidence on his fingertips.

            “What is your theory, Anya?” Lexa asked gravely.

            “Either this girl was _Azgeda_ born and inter-clan tensions prevented us from putting her on the registry or she was kidnapped in a village raid,” Anya speculated. “It seems that Nia went at great lengths to keep her hidden.”

            “This makes it dangerous as well,” Titus speculated before turning to Lexa. “A Commander from the Ice Nation. Now all of Nia’s provocations make sense, and we played right into it. She knew you would accept her challenge.”

            Considering that Nia was counting on Anya not to vote Lexa out, it did make sense. It was like the queen was several steps ahead.

            “There is still time to reconsider,” Anya suggested. “If you die, you are giving her what she wants and the other novitiates won’t stand a chance against this _Natblida_. Have me fight for you.”

            “You know I can’t do that,” Lexa dictated as she walked past them.

            “You really want a puppet Commander?” Clarke demanded. “Ontari will be under Azgeda’s control even if she had some piece of old technology inside her.”

            “ _Wanheda_ – ” Titus started. Scandalized by her statement.

            “She has a point, Titus,” Anya argued. “Or are you scandalized that Clarke referred to the Flame as technology?"

            Thinking of it, screw this challenge. Screw Nia for putting Roan in a position where he might die. “Screw this challenge,” Clarke spat out. “Either Nia seizes the Coalition via Ontari or her son dies because she was too cowardly to fight you.”

            “Clarke, you know that can’t stop me,” Lexa declared. “I have an obligation to uphold.”

            Clarke snorted as she headed towards the door. If the challenge will occur as tradition, then she will have to speak a last resort.

            “You know what? If you overpower Roan, why not kill his mother instead?” Clarke demanded. “Your quarrel is with her. She’s the one you have beef with. Don’t make him pay for his mother’s actions for a _third_ time.”

            With that, she barged out of the throne hall. Heading to her room to clean the blood off her face. She expected someone to come in. To berate her for challenging the Commander’s authority. No one ever did. Not even when the horn sounded. Indicating that it was time for people to watch the challenge

            Clarke swallowed as she dried her face before departing for the arena. Sitting next to Anya on the platform, she watched as both Roan and Lexa – dressed in armor with war paint on their faces – unsheathed their swords. As she watched him unsheathe his sword, his eyes found hers. His lips curling into a smile, like he was glad his Snowflake came in support. From her peripheral vision, she could feel Nia glare at her.

             It didn’t last long. Though it was long enough for Clarke’s heart to pound in her chest; the knot in her stomach tying as Lexa took the upperhand; followed by Roan before Lexa was able to fight him off and disarm him.

            Clarke collected her breath when she saw Roan approach a guard; punching him in the face before taking his spear. As if he wasn’t going to let Lexa taking his sword stop him.

            Though, Lexa was able to disarm him a second time and, with the blood pounding in her ear, Clarke stood up as Lexa pinned him to the ground. The spear poised to his face.

            Anxiety as well as confusion took hold, though Clarke knew that Roan might have a reason to lose to Lexa. Perhaps it was on purpose for a reason?

            “ _Get up!_ ” Nia commanded as she stood from her chair. _If you die, you don’t die a_   _prince, you die a coward!_ ”

            The blood reached her face as Clarke turned her heated glare towards Nia. Wasn’t she the real coward, who decided to hide behind her son in a challenge because she knew that Lexa would kick her ass?

            Lexa looked a Nia, turned her gaze back to Roan, who uttered something to her, and Clarke could read her lips: _Jus drein jus daun_. Within moments, Lexa locked her gaze on Nia and threw the spear in her direction. The latter having no time to react when the spear impaled her to the chair. Amidst the uproar surrounding it along with the look of pure shock on Ontari’s face, Clarke could feel a grim sense of satisfaction coursing through her as she watched Nia slump; the blood dripping from her mouth.

            As for Roan’s lack of emotion, Clarke couldn’t say she wasn’t surprised. Deep down, he was probably relieved at this development.

            “The queen is dead,” Lexa declared. “Long live the king.”

            It was when the crowd cheered in triumph that relief finally kicked in. Roan didn’t die. Lexa didn’t die. Clarke stepped from the platform to help him up, even if he didn’t need it.

            “Don’t you even think about it,” Ontari hissed from the platform. Practically lunging from where she was standing.

            Roan put his hand up. “She’s fine,” he rasped as Clarke took his hand.

            “But, Roan – ” Ontari started in protest.

            “Did I stutter?” he demanded as used her hands to help pull himself back up.

Clarke watched as Ontari snatched the golden pendant from Nia’s corpse before removing the bone diadem.

“Even if you trust _Wanheda_ , I can’t take any chances leaving your fifth-great grandfather’s legacy behind here,” she said.

From how Clarke saw it, Ontari might be a problem. And she had a feeling that she wouldn’t be the only one who would give her icy reception.

            When she decided to follow him from the ring, Clarke asked him, “Why did you lose? I would have thought you take her down.”

            He placed his mouth to her ear and whispered, “I was just giving her the opportunity to do what she couldn’t do five years ago. Her beef was with her, so I knew that if I lost the challenge, she would kill her instead of me.”

            So, that’s what he exploited. Roan took comfort knowing that if Lexa defeated him, it would be Nia’s blood that would be spilled instead of his. Like he knew this way beforehand.

            Maybe that’s what Lexa had in mind when she took the challenge, a thought that she took comfort in.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Despite Ontari’s protest, Clarke followed Roan back to the embassy. Clarke was for certain that the reason Ontari didn’t attack her was because Roan told her that, “Wanheda is under Azgeda protection.”

            Though it didn’t stop Ontari from throwing barbs regarding Lexa’s victory back at the arena. “People back home are going to think you’re weak, Roan,” Ontari seethed as they entered the private quarters within the Ice Nation Embassy. “Killing Lexa was supposed to be your ticket home.”

            “They won’t see me as weak,” he dictated as he looked at Clarke. “Not with _Wanheda_ ’s power in my possession.”

            Clarke narrowed her eyes, at first not understanding why he said that he was going to take her with them when they haven’t discussed it yet. Though it didn’t take long to occur to her that it was Roan’s way of telling Ontari to back off. Clarke knew anyway that Roan would feel pressure from his people to find any means to deal with her as an assurance of his strength and power.

            Though unfortunately, it seems that Ontari took it the wrong way. “Want me to hold her down while you do the honors?” she asked.

            Cold sweat ran down the back of her neck as Clarke could see Roan crinkling his nose as his face turned pink. “Get out of my sight, Ontari,” he spat out.

Ontari grumbled under her breath before turning to walk towards the door. “That includes you too,” he commanded to the guards; who walked away as if they melted away like shadows. He exhaled as they closed the door; taking a seat on the aged loveseat. He turned his gaze to her. “You do realize Clarke, that my people will be expecting me to deal with you in some form,” he broadcasted.

“The bounty on my head hasn’t technically been removed from my head, so I can’t say I’m surprised,” she replied as she sat next to him. “Also, it was a thought that crossed my mind as well before the challenge.”

“I’m not surprised either that you came to that conclusion,” he surmised. “Still, there is a better way. Better way than killing you. A better way then what my mother proposed this morning.”

“What did she propose?” Clarke asked, having a nagging feeling that she needed to hear it. As it probably bothered him as much as his mother’s desire to kill her.

He sighed. “She noticed your protest when she chose me as her champion,” he answered. “She offered that if I killed Lexa, that she would give you to me as a reward. Like you were some type of trophy.” He scoffed. “Anyway, it was only for her benefit and I don’t want to take you up to Gara against your will. I want your consent, and I don’t want you to exist as just a trophy.”

Clarke nodded. She could be the _Skaikru_ ambassador in _Azgeda_. Representing her people there for a few months before returning back home…

“ _Azgeda doesn’t answer to this girl_ ” Nia’s scornful remark repeated in her memory. Nia was right. Ice Nation won’t answer to a _Skaikru_ ambassador. A simple girl from Arkadia who became a legend. Unless…

Her eyes turned to the attention of the two contents on the table that Ontari sat down earlier. Clarke’s eyes glued to it as she stood up and approached the table, believing that the answer was in at least one of Nia’s possessions.

Clarke carefully picked up the bone diadem that graced Nia’s forehead. Turning it with her fingers. She guessed that many Ice Nation queens before Nia wore this and that it was only waiting to be resting on the next queen’s forehead.

If they won’t listen to an ambassador, they’ll have no choice but to listen to her as their _queen_.

 _Haiplana Klark kom Azgeda_.

The notion of it caused her to bite her lip. It was unorthodox to help assume control of a clan that wasn’t her own to begin with. Especially one that killed forty-nine of her people and terrorized more. A clan that possibly killed more of her people, possibly not excluding defenselessly children, before then. However, the Coalition saw her as their leader. It would be like two clans binding together politically.

As archaic as it is, Clarke read of the concept of marriage treaties or altar diplomacy from history books and seen it attempted without success on some movies. Usually it was done by kings and queens from two kingdoms; marrying off their two children in an effort to establish a mutually beneficial connection between the two nations.

Lexa just crowning Roan wasn’t just going to solve tensions between her people and Ice Nation. No doubt, another thing needed to be done to assure civility between the two clans and this seemed to be her option. Though she wasn’t in Arkadia, she knew that there would be others that would see it as synonymous as throwing them under the bus and no doubt that Bellamy and Octavia would liken it to Lexa leaving them at the Mountain months ago.

Though her people didn’t have to like it.

She sighed as she turned towards him; the diadem in hand. “Your mother said that Ice Nation doesn’t answer to me,” she stated.  “She’s right. They don’t, at least not now.”

Roan straightened his posture. “So you’re saying…”

“They are not going to listen to an ambassador but they will feel compelled to listen to a queen like they do their king,” she broadcasted.

Realization settled in his eyes as he seemed to comprehend what she was saying. “Altar diplomacy,” he murmured, before continuing louder, “basically a marriage treaty. Such a union is going to bind our clans together politically, you know that.”

“That’s the intention,” she pointed out.

He stood up and slowly walked towards the window. Basically contemplating what she was saying. “I heard that my people had problems with the group that landed,” he surmised. “Though I don’t doubt that they wouldn’t disclose their own faults. They are not going to be thrilled if their king makes a pact with the clan that harmed innocents and warriors indiscriminately.”

“My people will not be thrilled either,” she reminded him as she stood up. “They don’t have to be. Though this way, we can establish civility. They will be less likely to harm each other if they are bound.”

“My people are going to want justice for what happened months ago,” he pointed out. “Lexa already gave your people yours by killing the queen instead of me.”

Roan’s remark didn’t surprise her. _Azgeda_ will want justice for whatever crimes Farm Station committed on his people. The hard part was that her former Earth Skills teacher was one of them. She swallowed. She didn’t want to but if Pike also killed a combination of innocents and warriors, he would have to be punished. Grounder justice was brutal but when it comes to innocent people being hurt too, she couldn’t let that go unpunished.

People might call her naïve for taking Roan’s word that a group of her people killed innocents as well as warriors but she was foolish for forgiving Finn a mere two days after he killed eighteen people without provocation after holding them hostage for hours. Most of them having not experienced a day of combat in their lives, according to Tristan. Even if _Azgeda_ killed Skaikru innocent, it doesn’t cancel out the fact that her people would kill _Azgeda_ innocents, even if she can understand the fear and distrust of her people. Her people weren’t that pure.

Though _Azgeda_ probably didn’t completely get justice for their dead at Mount Weather with Emerson alive. She will take care of that first.

“They will get justice,” she assured him. “Might not be swift but they will.”

“So, I’m guessing that this will provide us the same benefit: ensure that our clans will be civil with each other,” he guessed.

“Yes, though for your end, making sure that our people won’t cause harm to each other wouldn’t be the only thing,” she assured. “Your people won’t question your strength if you have _Wanheda_ by your side as your queen. What do you say?”

He glanced at her for a moment before moving his fingers to the base of her neck before bending down to kiss her. Her heart fluttered as she placed his hand on his shoulders. Breathing deeply as their lips separated each other.

“Technically, I would have preferred that marriage would come from different circumstances,” he murmured against her lips. “Love rather than political convenience.” He drew back to gaze at her. “Though, the current circumstances don’t seem fit for a nonpolitical union. Also, I wanted to make sure that you had consent for such a concept. Therefore, I accept.”

Her lips curl into a smile. “When do you think it’s best to form a union?” she asked.

“It would be best if I introduce the concept of channeling your ability through matrimony before the advising council first,” he answered, “then undergo a marriage ceremony the day after we get there. That way they will accept you as their queen. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be as welcoming if we form it right now.”

She understood, as the previous queen just died at Lexa’s hand.

The Royal Coach was due to leave Polis specifically after the sun dipped below the horizon. Plenty of time to inform Lexa of her plan and write to her mother to explain her decision. Though she was going to do the latter first.

Considering tensions with Ice Nation, she didn’t want anyone but her mother to know that she was up in Ice Nation at first. It was best if almost everyone but a select few would believe that she was in Polis establishing connections between _Skaikru_ and eleven of the twelve other clans.

When things calm down, she would be able to let her people know the truth. She couldn’t afford to have her friends, especially Bellamy, to go on a suicide mission to retrieve her from the Ice Nation capital under the belief that they were helping her and saving her from a “mistake”.

And she couldn’t afford that.

 

* * *

 

He had sent a rider to pass along the follow message: that the result of a challenge to the Commander by his mother resulted in her death, and with both combatants of the challenge, him one of them, alive. That he would return as their king with Ontari in tow but that he would bring a surprise with them.

The surprise he would leave to interpretation, though Roan had a feeling that most of his people would be correctly guessing it to be Clarke. Still, he didn’t want to reduce her to an object in the message.

The sound of charcoal against paper (though he could also hear Clarke breathing heavily and sniffling; as if she was trying not to cry and that effort was failing her) filtered through the air as he gazed at the golden round pendant in his hand. It looked the same as it did with his memory. The image of a rising sun confined within the shape of a wide triangle intact. The same symbol that was embossed on the cover of his fifth great-grandfather’s journal that still sat in his crypt under the palace.

It was a symbol of an organization that believed that the end was near and overtime it became one that would symbolize his legacy. Therefore it was the sigil of his bloodline.

As he stared at the pendant, he swore that tears glistened as he knew the implications. He would return home at last after five years. Not as a prince but as a king to his people. However, even as joy and relief were within him about this long awaited moment, there were the hurdles ahead. He couldn’t pick up where he left off with his siblings. No doubt that they have changed as much as he had.

As for picking things up where they left off, Roan had a feeling that there would be those in his mother’s circle within the royal court and nobility that would expect him to follow his mother’s legacy. Echo being one of them.

As much as he looked forward to seeing her, he wasn’t looking forward to her wanting him to rule like his mother had.

Roan wanted to be his own king. Though if anything, he’d rather be known as his father’s son and not his mother’s.

He placed the pendant around his neck as he heard Clarke rolling the paper up. “I’m going to the Tower,” she stated. “As to inform the Commander of our decision and to have Anya deliver the letter to my mother.”

“You couldn’t have someone else do it?” he asked. “She’s _Trikru_.”

“I trust her, Roan,” she insisted. “Besides, _Trikru_ is the only clan that has a civil relationship with _Skaikru_ at the moment whether you like it or not.”

Well, she wasn’t as worrisome as Titus, to be exactly. Given Clarke’s stubbornness, arguing with her on the matter wasn’t going to be of use. He would have to let her go.

“Alright,” he answered. “What makes you comfortable.”

She smiled as she pecked his lips. “I’ll be back,” she assured. “If it makes gives you a sense of security, send someone to bring me back here if I’m not back within an hour.”

Though, he had a feeling that he wouldn’t need to. Clarke was strong enough to hold her own.

 

* * *

 

Anya was with Lexa in her chambers upon investigation; though Titus was also there upon entering, much to Clarke’s chagrin. The last one was probably not too happy regarding that she followed Roan into the Ice Nation Embassy after the challenge.

Three sets of eyes turned to her direction as she entered. Lexa looked relieved though Titus’s eyes were literally burning with anger. Anya was hard to read as always.

“You dare show your face here after going into the Ice Nation Embassy?” he raged. “You not only betrayed your Commander but also your clan.”

“ _Titus, silence_ ,” Lexa commanded as she stood up. 

“It only would be considered treachery if Nia was alive,” Anya pointed out. She turned to Clarke. “If anything, a little diplomacy with the new monarch might help. _Trikru_ doesn’t have to like it but for _Skaikru_ ’s sake, it’s best if _Azgeda_ took a step at being civil.”

One thing that Clarke liked about Anya was her ability to set any beef she might have for a group or an individual aside for the sake of diplomacy and alliances. No doubt that Lexa was the same way.

“What did the king want, Clarke?” Lexa asked her, standing up from her sofa.

“Nothing,” Clarke answered, “but we came to an agreement, though.”

“And what agreement is that?” Titus demanded, as if it should be something to worry about. Anya turned to glare at him.

“This might seem archaic, but…” Clarke swallowed and took a deep breath. _You got this_ , she thought to herself before continuing, “but for the sake of diplomacy for both Ice Nation and my people, Roan and I decided on altar diplomacy.”

“Altar diplomacy?” Lexa asked, raising her eyebrow. “A marriage treaty, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Clarke answered. “Also, we need to make sure that he stays in power. It is feared among his circle that him not killing you would be seen as weak by his people. That your death was supposed to be a triumphant return for him. If Roan has _Wanheda_ by his side, they won’t question his strength.” Clarke turned to Anya, “and as long as if he holds the throne, Ice Nation will honor the Coalition as it now stands.”

Lexa walked towards her window as both Anya and Titus look at her. Anya tugged on her ear while it seemed that Titus found room for protest. “Think about the ramifications, Commander,” he stressed. “ _Wanheda_ in the hands of Ice Nation. With her as their queen, it will only enhance their vengeance for you regarding the death of Nia.”

“That would only happen if Roan is ousted from the throne,” Anya asserted. “Reservations against him and his ilk aside, there’s a reason why Lexa crowned him and killed his mother instead of him. Given the discord between him and his mother in the past, he’ll honor the Coalition to spite her legacy. In that case, we need him on the throne and trust me, if Clarke says there is fear that he will be seen as weak, Roan being seen as weak is something we can’t afford. For diplomacy sake, _Wanheda_ becoming his queen isn’t a bad idea.”

“Anya has a point,” Lexa agreed, turning from the window. “If _Wanheda_ needs to rule aside the king to reaffirm his strength, I will honor that as I honor _Skaikru_ as the thirteenth clan.”

“ _Heda_ –” Titus protested.

“If she doesn’t, then we’ll have a coup on their hands,” Lexa interrupted, glaring at Titus. “We need Roan to honor the Coalition as it stands. Besides, this arrangement might bar Ice Nation from harming _Skaikru_ and vice versa.”

Clarke wasn’t surprised that Lexa would see this marriage treaty as something to protect her interests. Which was what Clarke was counting on. If Lexa thought it protected her interests, she wouldn’t be opposed to it.

Lexa allowed Clarke to retrieve her meager belongings from her room but not before hugging her goodbye, as Lexa said, “For who knows when we will meet again.”

“We will meet again,” Clarke assured before walking away. With Anya close behind her, as she whispered that she couldn’t afford a repeat of what happened with Gustus and TonDC. Clarke retrieved her sketches, as they were the only thing that she had.

“Are you afraid that your people might resent you for your decision?” Anya asked her as they left the Tower.

“Some of my peers never liked the decisions I made anyway, so what difference does it make?” she pointed out. From her part in allowing people to die in TonDC via the missile to staying in Polis to protect her people’s interests, it was no denial that people hated her decisions. Though even if things calmed down, she had a feeling that a portion of Arkadia’s population might disown her for her recent decision to align with Ice Nation. She wouldn’t blame them but she just can’t afford war if there was ever to be a coup.

“Sometimes, we have to do what’s best for our people, even if they don’t like it,” Anya said.

“Also, I don’t want most of everyone back at Arkadia to know that I’m in Ice Nation at first,” Clarke vocalized.

“It’s probably best,” she agreed. “Might not be the best idea for ninety-nine percent of the population to know that you made a marriage treaty with the king of Ice Nation. Though I know that you might make an exception with your mother.”

At this, Clarke pulled out the folded piece of paper and offered it to Anya. “When you see her, can you give this to her?” Clarke asked. “If anyone else asks where my whereabouts are, tell them I’m at Polis for diplomacy.”

Anya smiled as she took the paper. “You have my word, Clarke,” she assured. “Your mother and I might not agree on many things, but the truth of your whereabouts is something that I can’t deny her.”

Hours later, when the sun dipped below the horizon, Clarke followed Roan and Ontari to the four-horse drawn carriage – a wrought-iron coach with paneling on the inside – that brought his mother to Polis; which will carry Roan in her place. Ambassador Afton will follow a day later, so it was said.

As she sat next to him, Clarke opened the metal lattice shutters. Gazing at Polis as they headed north.

Leaving her friends and people behind.

 

* * *

 

            “Bellamy, this is going to place you in the stockade, you know that,” Wells stressed as he witnessed his friend packing assault rifles into a duffle bag. He knew that Bellamy was shaken by Gina’s death but what Bellamy was doing…Wells didn’t have the words. Bellamy knew better then to get assault rifles for an unauthorized mission. Led by Pike of all people. The ground must have really hardened him to resort to this idiocy.

            Especially against an army of _Trikru_ sent by the Commander to protect them after what happened last night.

            In fact, Wells wouldn’t have known if he caught Bellamy going to the weapons room while trying to retrieve a cup of hot chocolate for Raven. Who was worn from her breakdown this morning and the events of yesterday. He would try to talk him down but due to Bellamy’s stubbornness, it will prove fruitless. He didn’t have the energy to fight with him; not after what Ice Nation did last night.

            “We can’t give them the advantage anymore, Wells,” Bellamy argued as he zipped up the duffle bag. “You were there when they sent Murphy to infect the camp. Not to mention that we were short of gun powder before Lexa sent an army of three hundred warriors commandeered by Tristan and Anya. Both of which taking the lives of thirty-seven of our friends in total.”

            “That was months ago,” Wells argued, moving to block the door. “Are you forgetting that the first attack was averted by Raven’s bomb? That the second one ended with the Ring of Fire?”

            “Did you forget that Lexa basically left you and all of us to die three months ago?” Bellamy demanded, shifting the strap to his shoulder.

            Wells shook his head. Hardly comprehending the present situation. He didn’t forget Lexa’s betrayal but he wished people would stop pretending that it was an easy choice. He wasn’t there outside the Mountain when it happened but still, it was war. And alliances don’t hold in war.

            “Bellamy,” he pleaded, “I was there last night too. I am sorry for Gina. If you are angry, place it on the Ice Nation where it belongs. Not on every single Grounder that exists because we and the Woods Clan got off on a violent start. Besides, this isn’t you.”

            Bellamy sighed in frustration. “This is who I always been, Wells,” he challenged. “Now, excuse me.”

            Bellamy shoved passed him, bumping Wells into the doorjamb before storming off. Wells sighed, looking back as his friend was going off to help commit a dreadful mistake. Hopefully, the guard at the gate would prevent Pike’s group – which included Bellamy – from acting out on killing three hundred of those warriors. Therefore preventing Bellamy from committing a decision that he would regret later on.

            Though it didn’t help that there was to be an election tomorrow, where everyone wasn’t bound to think clearly.

 

* * *

 

 

It had been a few hours since they crossed into _Azgeda_ and Clarke had fallen asleep since then. Wrapping herself with one of the furs like a burrito as her head lay against his shoulder. Keeping her close, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

            If anything, the idea that they were in _Azgeda_ territory, his home that he was forbidden to step foot in for five years, resulted in a sense of joy that ran through every fiber of his being. Being crowned as king with the prospect of coming home was one thing but the fact that he was back in Ice Nation made it seem so real.

            So real that Roan had to refrain from pinching himself to see if he was dreaming or not; though his future wife sleeping beside him was indication enough that it was real. In the past, his dreams of being back home never featured her.

            The carriage slowed as he saw the lights of an outpost through the lattice of the shutters. Presumably to switch coachmen as awareness was needed to continue the journey back to Gara.

            The capital of his people. His home.

            Ontari stirred awake as the carriage slowed but it stopping altogether was what roused Clarke awake. “Why are we stopping?” she yawned.

             “They are just switching coachmen,” he answered as he heard Glyn, one of the coachmen, engaging in some light conversation with another. “Nothing to worry about.”

            They felt the motion of two people ascending the rider’s bench before, slowly, the carriage was on its way again. Clarke opened the shutter, looking at the passing building before shutting it abruptly and huddling close to him.

            As if she didn’t want to risk staring out too long.

            Ontari snorted in derision as she slipped back from under her furs, resuming to go back to sleep. Before his banishment, he likened Ontari as one of his siblings. She was a small child when she was forcibly taken from her _Podakru_ village. Taken under his mother’s wing when it was discovered that she bled like night; though she groomed her to be her handmaid to keep her with her at all times. He tried being a big brother to her so his mother’s cruelty wouldn’t outweigh everything else.

            He wishes that he didn’t have to relieve Ontari of her small weapons as they made the trip back to Ice Nation. Roan couldn’t risk her killing Clarke out of vengeance for her failed assassination attempt against his mother.

            Clarke fell asleep against him once more and it was not long that he fell asleep as well. The fact that there was a lot on his plate regarding his return back was an understatement. He wasn’t certain what kind of reception he will receive when facing his siblings and the council of advisor’s. No doubt that there would be those that will be glad that he returned and those that will be fatigued of the fact that he’s their king succeeding his mother. Not to mention that he only met one of the three prerequisites to ascend as king: being the first born.

            Though that would be two out of three when he marries Clarke to bind their clans together. He was hopeful that there would be those open to the idea that _Wanheda_ being wed to him was a better strategy then just killing her in order to command death. All that would remain would be that he’d have to help bear a child to prove that he wasn’t sterile.

            In that case, he’d have to stop pulling out of her before he came during sex starting on the night they go to the palace matrimony chamber before the second part of the wedding feast and the last day of the celebrations.

            He could feel her nuzzling against him before drifting further into sleep. Roan didn’t have to worry about hypothermia taking him. It wasn’t like they were up where the eternal snow started.

            Drifting further into the abyss of slumber, at one point when he opened his eyes, he realized that he wasn’t in the carriage but a battlefield. Specifically, one of those from his memories: a large patch of clearing; covered with snow that would have been pristine if it weren’t for the blood drenched under and around bodies.

            He gasped for breath as he rose to his feet. The goosebumps rippling under his clothes. It wasn’t the silence that instilled fear in Roan but the fact that he was the only one alive in this field of dead. Away from Clarke. Away from the possibility of coming back home.

            Roan clutched his hand on the handle of his knife. Prepared to strike down a hiding enemy when he could hear groaning. A chilling groan of pain, blood, and bone. One that raised the hairs on the back of his neck.

            One from his memories.

            Panic set in as he ran towards the source. Stopping in his tracks to see his father before him. Lying mangled in a pool of his blood. Blood spilling from the side of his mouth as a arrow protruding from his stomach.

            “Father,” he gasped as he dropped to his knees. Desperate to help his father, even though he knew how things like these always ended.

            “Roan,” he rasped, unable to get his name out properly from the excruciating pain he was in. “Help…me.”

            “Tell me how,” he gasped desperately, feeling the tears begin to stream down his face. “Tell me!”

            His father never said anything but he nodded towards his stomach and horror settled in his stomach when Roan realized what his father wanted him to do. He couldn’t possibly…

            Roan swallowed hard. He didn’t want to be the one to pull the arrow from his stomach but he couldn’t have his father die a slow and agonizing death. He took a deep breath as his shaking hand gripped the handle of the arrow; which was burning his skin on contact.

            “I’m going to end this for you,” he assured with gritted teeth. Trying to ignore the unbearable pain as he was about to pull the arrow from his stomach.

            He gasped, jolting forward as he opened his eyes. Relief settling in as he realized that he was back in the Royal Carriage enroute to Gara. Daybreak setting in as he saw Clarke and Ontari both awake; looking towards the window as they approached a lodge.

            “ _One of the Coachmen said something about stopping for breakfast fifteen minutes ago_ ,” Ontari said. “ _I am sure you wouldn’t be opposed to it, your majesty_.”

            “ _No_ ,” he said. Depending on the weather, it was more likely that they will reach Gara by tomorrow. As it was time of year where the blizzards were more unpredictable. Besides, the three of them could eat, relieve themselves, and stretch their legs before setting out again.

            “ _Are you okay?_ ” Clarke asked him. Those blue eyes of hers filled with concern. As if she had an idea what was wrong. He wasn’t oblivious to Ontari’s wide eyes at Clarke speaking their language. Clarke spoke English the day before; not giving indication that she was fluent in their native tongue.

            As for Clarke’s question, if they were alone, he would pour his heart out. However, given the current circumstances, it wouldn’t be prudent to release that particular emotion. He worked his face into a strong and stoic mask and answered, “ _Nothing to worry about, Clarke_.”

            Clarke raised her eyebrows in skepticism as the carriage was pulled to the back of the lodge where their exclusive dining area was at. Though she knew him enough to guess what it was about.

 

* * *

 

            If Ontari wasn’t with them, Roan would have confided to her about the details. Not give the stoic mask of a king that didn’t want his power and strength questioned. It had to be about his father, because what else would it be?

            What horrors did he have to relive or imagine?

            The carriage came to a stop and the door on their side opened. Frigid air drafting in.

            Roan left his seat first; leaving the carriage before offering his hand. Clarke took it, stretching her legs in the process after hours of sitting down. Trying hard not to be off balance as her feet touched the snow.

            “ _Ah, he has returned to us_ ,” beamed a woman that must be a innkeeper of some sort as Ontari departed from the carriage behind them. “ _Is it true that you have a surprise to present to everyone in the court?_ ”

. “ _All revealed in good time_ ,” he answered smoothly. “ _I don’t want word of what I actually have to prematurely arrive in the capital_.”

            “ _Now of course, your majesty_ ,” she replied. “ _Anything to protect your interests. Now, I know that the three of you will rather eat and warm up before heading on your way_.”

            The door they passed through not only had the Ice Nation sigil on it but underneath it was that same symbol that was present on the royal pendant, and a box that contained it and Nia’s diadem: a rising sun confined within a wide triangle. Clarke guessed that it must have some significance within the clan. Otherwise it wouldn’t be some common place.

            The room they were led to wasn’t too extravagant, though intricately carved chairs surrounded a wooden table draped with a blue tinted cloth in the middle. A banner of the Azgeda sigil hanging under a stair banister with a balcony with two doors behind him.

            Behind a door at ground level, she thought she could hear a mixture of boisterous and soft conversations. Clarke guessed that they wanted to give royalty privacy while they travel so they wouldn’t be disturbed or be a distraction for everyone trying to eat.

            She was relieved that Ontari took the seat by the window, as Clarke couldn’t afford having people glance at her when the door opened for when they got their meals. Though waiting didn’t take too long.

            Though Clarke wasn’t expecting for them to ask what they would prefer. Yet, if could say one thing, life in the Ark taught her to not be picky when it came to food.

            The three of them were given eggs, potatoes, and a piece of meat that Clarke could only recognize as tripe. With a piece of toast on a small plate and strawberry preserves. To drink: a cup of water.

            The first time Clarke ate tripe was at a lunch in Brighton Village within _Trigeda_ territory before the alliance marched to Mount Weather, and the last time back in Roan’s old cabin down in Blue Cliff territory. It didn’t surprise her that if the Grounders thought that something – like intestines – was edible aside from the meat, they would eat it.

            They seemed to be resourceful that way.

            Thirty minutes after eating, they left the room for the frigid climate outside. Clarke desperately pulling her hood over her head as she witnessed a group of three surrounding a massive moose. Two adults and a child around the age of ten. Probably a family.

            She couldn’t keep her eyes off them as Roan ushered her to the carriage. Watching as the little boy fed some nuts to the moose. Looking at them closely, the parents didn’t have any branding on their faces, like what Roan and Ontari had.

            The brand marking was probably for warriors, nobility, and the royalty. Therefore supporting the allegation that Farm Station killed innocents as well as warriors.

            Her people might not see it but even if Ice Nation committed atrocities against them, some of her people might have to answer to the atrocities they committed on Ice Nation. Though they might argue and rationalize it like her friends did with Finn. Though she would have understood their fear and mistrust. However, no one has hindsight.

            Killing civilians wasn’t the same as killing warriors sent to kill them.

 

* * *

 

            The vote came close. She was third while Pike and Kane were neck and neck in votes. The former being the elected Chancellor. All Pike had to do was choose his Vice Chancellor.

            Abby gritted her teeth as the knot tied to her stomach while she was giving medication to one of the ill _Trikru_ that Nyko brought with him the day before. She wanted to be there giving the pin to the new Chancellor but she felt that her priorities were here helping Lincoln and Jackson. She had Kane do it, for she hoped that he would talk him down. They were friends back in the Ark.

            Distrusting the Grounders was one thing but she didn’t want to give the Woods Clan another reason to try to wipe them out after three months of civility. Not with her daughter in Polis. She was due to come back when the conflict with Ice Nation was resolved and Anya radioed this morning that they were bringing Nia’s corpse today as proof that the threat was over.

            She just hoped that they would get here before Pike could do what he wanted to carry out last night.

            “Things might get bad, will they?” she asked Lincoln in particular.

            He paused for a moment. “Bad is an understatement, Abby,” he answered. “I guarantee you that if Pike goes through with that attack, things will return the way they were when the flares were launched and Lexa will revoke _Skaikru_ as the thirteenth clan.”


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically my version of 3x05, everyone. Also, according to Ricky Whittle (who played Lincoln from s1 to s3), Lincoln was originally supposed to escape Arkadia with Octavia.

Bellamy was still broiling from his confrontation with Kane outside the Chancellor’s office when he stepped into the eating canteen. Though he tried to ignore his sister’s infernal glare and Wells’ and Ravens’ glances of sheer disappointment as he sat at the end of their table.

            Even if he tried to explain it to them, they wouldn’t understand.

            Octavia stood up, her nose crinkled in disgust. “Now that you have become Pike’s lapdog, I see that you are back in the guard,” she sent on resentfully. Eyeing his jacket with equal resentment.

            “Octavia…” he started in protest.

            “Go float yourself, Bellamy,” she spat out as she stormed from the table. People staring at her as she walked out of the canteen. He had to convince her to remove her _Trikru_ garb, as he didn’t want her to attract violence towards herself.

            “You got some nerve, Bellamy,” Wells muttered. “I am hearing rumors that they were asleep when you did the ambush. Is that true?”

            Following Wells’ question, Bellamy remembered that he had a moment of hesitation to follow through on the ambush when he saw that they were sleeping and that he initially wanted to back away. However, didn’t _Trikru_ capture Murphy and sent him back with a fever in order to incapacitate the camp so they could attack without casualties on their end?

            “ _Trikru_ captured Murphy and sent him back to infect us so we would be too weak to fight back,” he pointed out. “That is no different.”

            “It might not be but it doesn’t make it right,” Wells argued. “If we keep doing this, it’s just going to keep repeating the cycle and it would end with us dead.”

            “War is all they understand,” Bellamy stressed. He thought he wouldn’t need to explain it to them since they were literally there.

            “If you have spent nearly two centuries locked in a bloody war with those artic bastards, it would be the only thing to understand,” Raven pointed out. “Do you think that Gina would approve of what you are doing?”

            Gina. “What?” he asked.

            “Gina would be disappointed in you,” Raven clarified. “She wouldn’t want you to do that. Gina wouldn’t want this for you. She wouldn’t allow you to help give them another reason to attempt to wipe us out.”

            Bellamy ran his hands through his hair as he lowered his head; taking deep and shallow breathes; guilt filling him within moments. It didn’t help that Raven was correct. That Gina would have despised what he did. She was too good. Too pure for this death planet; that perhaps he didn’t deserve her after what he did this morning.

            _Don’t be ridiculous. You only shot to wound_ , his mind told him. _Not to mention that you pleaded with Pike to spare the wounded_.

            Yes but he backed down when Pike told him that they couldn’t be trusted to tell others what happened. Though he managed convince Pike to spare Indra; saying that they need one alive to tell a message to Lexa. Sparing her as he didn’t want to imagine Octavia’s wrath for having any part in her death.

            Bellamy lifted his head just in time to see Lincoln approach the table. Leaning towards Wells and whispering in his ear. He couldn’t get what was said though he thought it was along the lines of his father being back. For Wells leaped from his seat and hightailed out of there.

            Lincoln turned towards Bellamy and shook his head before walking away. If only the sight of Lincoln’s disapproval didn’t turn a knife in his stomach.

            “Something has to be done,” Raven told him, glancing at Lincoln before turning her gaze to Bellamy. “Lincoln was assaulted just yesterday and it might get worse with Pike in charge.”

            If Pike told him earlier that participating was worth it, he was wrong. It wasn’t worth having his friends disappointed in him. Wasn’t worth knowing that this would stain Gina’s memory.

            Raven was right last week. Gina was too good for him.

 

* * *

 

            The carriage continued its journey north after their stop for breakfast at the lodge. The sun still shining brightly like it did when they left. Wrapping herself in furs to keep her warm yet not giving any distance between her and Roan, Clarke gazed out from the window; watching the passing landscape before her.

            There was something idyllic about the snow covered forests they were passing by. Something that could be found in those winter themed illustrations painted before the bombs. Something that could be found in an ancient Christmas card.

            So idyllic. So peaceful looking. So beautiful. Yet, it was possible that warriors used their marvelous scenery as a way to distract enemies. A perfect epitome of the saying “if looks could kill.”

            Gathered what she learned about Ice Nation over the past few months, things would have been grimmer had the Dropship landed here instead of _Trikru_ territory. She guessed her peers dodged a bullet by landing there and not here. Things that are beautiful tend to be deadly as well.

            The temperature dropped as they continued up north and it was around what looked like noon when gray clouds started obscuring the sun; completely blanketing the sky. It didn’t seem to help that the clouds were lying low.

            “If we’re heading towards one of the snow belts, we might not make it to Gara until tomorrow,” Roan grumbled under his breath.

            “Hopefully we are in close proximity of one of the sovereignty lodges,” Ontari vocalized. “By our luck, we might wind up getting stuck in this carriage at the side of the pass until it passes.”

            _Don’t jinx it_ , Clarke thought as she turned to see the snow starting to fall. Progressing from flurries to moderate snowfall within a few minutes. Nothing was pleasant on this earth but she would rather much wait out a blizzard in a warm building rather waiting it out in a carriage where it was bound to get cold.

            “That didn’t happen when you travelled down to Polis, did it?” he asked.

            “Your mother thought it was wasting some time,” Ontari vocalized. “Not to mention that it was miserable.”

            Clarke closed the metal shutter and pulled the curtain over it; trying to desperately keep out the drafts and snow from coming in. Pulling the furs tightly around her body as she huddled closer to him.

            Mere five minutes later, she could feel the carriage turn it’s direction. Pausing for a moment before proceeding and Clarke could swore that she smelled the scent of smoke; like fire kindling on wood. They were somewhere.

            The carriage came to a full stop and it took seconds for two people to throw open the doors.

            “ _Quick_ ,” someone urged as a coachman pulled Clarke from her seat. “ _We need to get the king and his companions inside before it gets worse_.” Legs stiff from sitting in the wagon, she tried to stay balanced as she heard Roan jump from behind her. Who placed his hand on her back and hurried her towards what looked like a large wooden building.

            Running through the heavy snow and furious wind as Clarke was dimly aware of another carriage nearby.  Implying that they will not be riding out this storm alone. Given that Ontari said something about a sovereignty lodge, whoever else would be with them most likely was part of the _Azgeda_ ruling class.

            She was greeted with warmth and the aroma of bread when they escaped from the outside. Warmth. The first thing that Clarke wanted to do was take her boots and wool socks off so she could warm her feet by the fire.

            “What’s baking?” Ontari asked as Clarke unhooked her cloak before an attendant took it from her shoulders after Roan gave them his cloak. Clarke could register soft conversation in the next room. She thought she could hear children’s voices accompanying adult voices. “I’m starving.”

            Food wasn’t what Clarke wanted yet, as she wanted to find the nearest fireplace and warm her feet before…well, it might be useful to slip into bed with Roan without any clothes. Skin contact can help with warmth.

            “ _Any indication who are companions are?_ ” Roan smoothly asked.

            “ _Earl Gwenhwyvar and her family_ ,” one answered smoothly. “ _They arrived a mere six minutes ago_.”

            Earls were usually men over the course of history though Clarke remembered one show where a Norse Viking Shieldmaiden managed to become an Earl. _Vikings_ , was it?

            If they planned on announcing their presence, it was like that they didn’t need to. For a woman with black hair and medium brown skin with a golden undertone left the room she was in; gazing at them in curiosity with grey eyes. If anything, the brand on her forehead never tarnished what beauty she seemed to possess. Though her sharp features seemed to make her intimidating as well as her height. As if she was some amazon warrior to an extent.

            The Earl smiled as she approached them. “ _Why, it appears that the rumors were true_ ,” she mused. She offered her hand and in response, he grasped her elbow. Perhaps it was a gesture shared among the prominent members of Grounder society. She and Anya shared such a gesture before the latter was shot in the arm. Back when Mount Weather had become a viable threat to her people. “ _So, it’s true that the Commander crowned you after killing your mother in a challenge yesterday?_ ”

“ _Yes, your ladyship_ ,” he answered. “ _It might be not what people here desire but at least I’m in one piece_.”

“ _How very fortunate_ ,” she coolly replied, though her eyes became apologetic. “ _Though condolences are in order. Your mother was a very fierce monarch of the ages, your majesty. I’m sorry for your loss_.”

Clarke saw that Ontari bowed her head, though she turned her peripheral gaze to Roan. Wondering how he was going to respond. Though she wasn’t surprised that he was bracing himself for anyone giving him sympathy regarding a mother that treated him like shit.

“ _Well, let’s just say that I’m surprised that it didn’t happen sooner_ ,” Roan answered stoically.

Clarke bit her lip; bracing for the _Azgeda_ Earl in their presence to question why he didn’t seem to appear emotional or to at least demand why that was his answer. However, she seemed to not be surprised, as she nodded. Touching his shoulder before turning her gaze to her.

Stepping forward that she was standing before Clarke. Clarke thought that she had seen a red haired man around the woman’s age step outside into the foyer. Like curiosity compelled him to see who their guests were.

“ _Well, well, is this the surprise you are talking about?_ ” she mused before proceeding to walk around her. “ _The Commander of Death, is it?_ ”

Clarke inhaled. Why did she have to guess correctly?

“ _Yes,_ ” Roan answered; polite but with a slight note of irritation. “ _Clarke of the Sky People. I was planning to keep it a secret until I reached the capital but since you correctly figured it out, there is no point in keeping it a secret from you. I have decided that her ability was best channeled via matrimony_.”

The Earl looked back at him before turning to Clarke before turning back to Roan. As if such a concept was intriguing. “ _In that case, the Commander of Death by your side might make you the most powerful king we might ever have_ ,” she surmised.

The woman’s companion coughed behind him. Like it was an effort that he wanted to be noticed. Gwenhwyvar turned, her features softening up as she smiled at her companion. “ _I would like to introduce to you my husband, Lord Erik_ ,” she introduced.

Her husband shook all their hands. His calluses scrapping against Clarke’s palm.

            “ _Now, why don’t we talk before lunch_ ,” Gwenhwyvar proposed. “ _I’m sure that the king and his future queen could unwind after the first part of their journey_.”

            “ _Well, I’d like to warm my feet, thank you_ ,” Clarke stated. Feeling taxed that she wasn’t addressed as if she didn’t know their language. She was practically fluent.

            Gwenhwyvar and her companion widened their eyes in surprise before the former chuckled. “ _You can_ ,” she stated. “ _Though I’m sure that your feet are glad that they are in here then out there_.”

            To be frank, it was a raging blizzard outside compared to minutes ago.  Their view completely obscured from the blinding white out.

 

* * *

 

            Last time Wells saw his father, was the look of utter disappointment on his face as he was led away by the guard after he purposely burned the Eden Tree so he could join Clarke when being taken to the Earth. Seeing him now; seeing him blissful as if no amount of pain in his life existed was something that Wells couldn’t comprehend.

            Something was definitely wrong; especially with him going on about some City of Light that Anya debunked as a myth and holding out a blue pill tablet with the infinity logo.

            “You’re insane, dad,” Wells could muster out as he looked at the blue pill. “You can’t get salvation and relief from taking a simple pill.”

            After a pause, as if he was listening to someone in the room, he answered, “This isn’t insanity, son. A world without pain is a calm world. A peaceful world. We wouldn’t have to worry about places that are ravaged by war, like here.”

            “That was months ago,” Wells maintained. “Things weren’t rosy but we were civil with the Woods Clan then. Three months worth’s of civility that are probably ruined because my Earth Skills teacher couldn’t see the bigger picture of what happened with Ice Nation.”

            “Pain of his past trauma with that clan was what led him to make that choice,” answered his father. “If it weren’t for that pain plaguing him, his head would be clear.”

            Did the pain that _Azgeda_ inflicted on Pike send him on this downward spiral and hardened him? Yes but there were constructive ways to overcome pain. One doesn’t punish one clan for what another clan did.

            Besides, his father was barking mad for suggesting something that seemed hollow.

            “You can’t just take pain away,” he pointed out as he was aware of Raven approaching them at their table in the canteen. “The world can be a messed up place but a world that is all rosy is harmful.”

            Harmful as it was practically stale and cardboard. There was nothing pragmatic about it. There was nothing good about living in complete blissful ignorance.

            His father placed the pill in the front pocket of his jacket. “Your mind will open up when you take the key,” he offered. “Think: a life with no pain.”

            “I say you are full of crap,” Raven put forth before Wells could think of a response. As blunt as it was, Raven did have a point.  “There's no simple way to eliminate pain, and you know it.”

            One of those pauses follows and Wells couldn’t get any more creeped out. Watching as his father glanced at Raven and offered that a blue pill like the one he gave him. “This key right here can make it all go away,” he advertised.

            Raven snorted as she shook her head. “Please.”

            “The key to the City of Light,” he said. “To salvation and to relief.”

            Wells shook his head. Out of all the times when he could reunite with his father, why this? Why at a time where he seems to be speaking about a life of cardboard and listening to someone that is invisible? He was not one to believe in aliens but this was something that was reminiscent of stories like the _Invasion of the_ _Bodysnatchers_ and the _5 th Wave_.

            “Dad, I said this before and I will say it again: there is no salvation and relief on taking a pill that will make all the pain go away,” he stressed. “I don’t know what happened out there when you looked for some mythical shining city on a hill but this is messed up.”

            “Your son has a point, you know,” Raven pointed out. “You’re telling us that we swallow that and we’ll be living in happy town for the rest of our lives? You should be ashamed of yourself.”

            Raven took his hand and led him away from the table. As Wells looked back at his dad, where instead of disappointment, it was like he was thinking of something. As if he was trying to think how to approach them next.

            That sent a chill down his spine.

            “Your dad is insane,” Raven contended as they both walked out of the canteen. “All that mumbo jumbo about living in some cardboard existence.”

            “That worries me,” he murmured. To talk about some mythical City of Light and a world without pain, hate, and envy was one thing but to actually want people to experience that type of existence was another terrifying medium.

            What happened? He just couldn’t process it.

 

* * *

 

Even with the shutters closed, they could still hear the howling of the wind as they eat with the Earl’s family; their children a ten year old boy and a twelve year old girl. Both were looking curiously at Clarke as they ate their bread with their soup.

            He could see that Clarke was making an effort to not draw attention to herself as she ate. Though that would not stop a barrage of questions heading her way.

            “ _This is what intrigues us_ ,” Earl Gwenhwyvar said. “ _It was said that the Woods Clan couldn’t take them down, yet you did after a month of being down here. How was that so, Clarke?_ ”

            Roan could see that Clarke was biting her lip. Like she was trying to filter out her response before answering. “ _I didn’t do it alone, m’lady_ ,” she answered, setting down her fork. “ _I had two friends help me_.”

            The Earl and her husband chuckled. As if something amused them for some reason. “ _No need to be modest, Wanheda_ ,” Erik answered. “ _You might have had help with the mechanics though that didn’t mean that it wasn’t your idea._ ”

            As far as Roan was concerned, he had to do something. It wouldn’t be right to leave her to fend for herself regarding these questions about Mount Weather. Even if she was strong enough to handle it. He brushed her knuckles with his fingers, resulting in her blue eyes to gaze at him.

            He wasn’t trying to get her out of answering the question but he wanted her to know that she had his support. That he was there for her. She gazed at him for a moment before turning back to her audience. “ _It was my idea, even if I had help, I will admit_ ,” she answered. “ _I did what I had to do for my friends. My people. I didn’t plan to go that far…_ ” she inhaled before slowly exhaled. “ _…but in the end, their leader gave me no choice_.”

            The Earl clasped her hands together; nodding her head slow. Roan could see that while Clarke tried to make an effort that she didn’t do with ease but also to maintain her strength. Like a leader would.

            “ _At least you had the courage that Commander Lexa of the Woods Clan didn’t have_ ,” Gwenhwyvar surmised. “ _You managed to dispose of our greatest enemy while she threw everybody under the bus by taking that deal_.”

            He didn’t think Clarke would appreciate that, hence as she was biting her lip. “ _The Mountain’s fate was unavoidable_ ,” she answered. “ _It would have always ended with them meeting their gruesome death regardless what other decisions we might have been made_.”

            “ _Then the king was wise to channel your ability through matrimony_ ,” Erik assumed. “ _Seems like your presence provides others around you with that touch of death as well_.”

            Clarke slowly nodded before turning back to her lunch. If she were _Azgeda_ , she might look at it with pride but Clarke was different. Even if he convinced her that what happened at Mount Weather was unavoidable, that didn’t mean that a semblance of guilt left her.

            After half a minute of silence, Lavinia, the Earl’s daughter, piped up: “ _Are you an alien, Wanheda_?”

            Roan couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped from his throat at this question. Though it seemed to evoke the same reaction in Earl Gwenhwyvar and Lord Erik. Clarke’s fork clattered to the floor, though to say that she wasn’t giggling herself would be a lie. “ _What was that?_ ” she asked, trying to compose herself as an attendant ran to replace her fork.

            “ _An alien_ ,” the girl repeated. “ _They came from the sky like your people. Like the Martians from the War of the Worlds_.”

            Clarke shook her head in amusement as she was presented with another fork. “ _Well, we’re not green_ ,” she pointed out. “ _Though we came down in different circumstances. We came down here because our home was dying. We had to see if the ground was survivable for us. Though it never crossed our minds that the ground was inhabited_.”

            “ _Did it hurt when you landed?_ ” asked Roscoe, Lavinia’s brother, asked her.

            Roan watched closely at Clarke. Regarding how she was going to answer that one as it was said that the first group landed in a ship; a ship that _Trikru_ rumored to assume it was space junk before they saw a parachute ejected from it.

            Clarke nodded. “ _Sort of_ ,” she answered. “ _I’m glad that I was strapped into my seat_.”

            If anything, he guessed that it was a relief for her that these inane questions most likely provided an escape from discussing Mount Weather. That she would probably rather answer questions about her being in the sky then what was previously discussed earlier.

            Though Roan knew that there was nothing extraterrestrial about Clarke; even if she wasn’t born of this planet. She was more like snow than anything else.

 

* * *

 

            “ _Seems like your presence provides others around you with that touch of death as well_.”

            It didn’t help that there was truth to that Earl’s statement. People did manage to kill others around her. Usually with it being her idea and they wound up doing the mechanics or helping her. Like with Mount Weather.

            She shook her head as she picked up her sketchbook. Around here, it seemed like committing genocide against an entire group of people was a feat that was to be celebrated. Clarke could understand why: the Mountain had terrorized the Woods Clan and even killed members of _Azgeda_ who crossed into _Trikru_ territory during wartime or for other reasons. They killed more of their people then her own.

            However, she didn’t quite expect to be looked upon with envy, respect, or fear for an ability that was more rooted in her tactical approaches and strategy during war. Like she had become a symbol of something.

            Clarke knew that among her people, she’d still be considered a girl that had more weight on her shoulders then what she should carry. Here she was a leader, a harbinger of death, and basically the Ice Nation queen in a few days. If the Earl didn’t seem opposed to _Wanheda_ ruling by Roan’s side, then there would be members of the advising council wouldn’t be either. Though she wasn’t sure about his siblings.

            Though she wouldn’t need to worry about Nymeria, his other sister and his brother might be ones to worry about. Roan never gave indication about their relationship with their mother but if they were close to her, they might be filled with resentment.

            Probably even hate her for taking their mother’s place as queen. Though she had a feeling that they might not be alone. There were probably those like Ontari, who practically lived in close proximity to the point of being infallibly loyal even after she died.

            Clarke leaned against the wall of the Monarch Chambers; where she and Roan would be sleeping for the night (originally the lodge caretaker wanted her to sleep in the common accommodations, though Roan persuaded him that he’d prefer it if she bunk with him for the night). Hearing the wind howl before she could hear something crash along the side of the lodge.

            Must have been the snow drifting from the roof.

            Aside from the burden of her greatest atrocity being celebrated, her mother came to mind. Blinking away her tears and swallowing as it occurred to her that her mother received the letter by now. What did Anya tell her before then? The cover story about her being in Polis before eventually finding out the truth? Yes, she never held her absence against her but this time she was going to spend time with the people that killed dozens of her own people.

            There was no doubt that this time, her mother would feel betrayed.

She began pressing the charcoal to the paper when the door creaked open. Nearly dropping it in surprise before seeing that it was Roan.

            “Decided to check on me?” she asked as he closed the door behind him.

            “It wouldn’t right if I didn’t,” he answered. Pulling a chair close to where she was sitting. “Decided to escape after lunch?”

            If anything, though his perceptiveness was irritating, at least she didn’t have to outright explain it. “Otherwise I would go crazy,” she answered. “I have to do something with my emotions. Otherwise I’d be seen as weak.”

            “Not if it’s just the two of us,” he encouraged.

            She breathed deeply as a tear trailed down her cheek. “It wasn’t just about being asked about Mount Weather,” she answered as she set her sketchbook aside. “My mother wasn’t upset with me for leaving the first time. In fact, she understood. With this decision, I’m not sure that she wouldn’t be disappointed. Not after forty-nine of my people were killed just recently by your mother’s doing.”

            “Though she’ll understand eventually if she was disappointed,” he assured her. Brushing her arm with his knuckles. “As I said previously, she’d be more worried then angry.”

            He got that right but still. “Three months ago, I wasn’t traveling to the home of the people that caused my people harm,” she pointed out, feeling her voice break. “That was the difference. I know that my decision wouldn’t be popular with my family, friends, and people but I still find myself worrying of how my mother would feel.”

            She leaned to him; allowing herself to softly cry on his shoulder as he stroked her hair with his fingers.

            “You have me, Clarke,” he assured as he began to softly rub her back. “Don’t forget that. I’ll support you if no one else does.”

            If there were any indication, Clarke knew that only Roan would be able to see her for what she really was in the next few months. For she would have to appear as the strong and ruthless Mountain Slayer.

 

* * *

 

            Lincoln rubbed his head; still feeling the lingering effects of disorientation after Bellamy stuck a shock baton to his side when he tried to stop Pike from incarcerating ill members of his clan of birth.

            _Trikru_ that were too ill to even fight. Was Pike that paranoid? The idea that they would attack them after treatment was ludicrous. He could understand the distrust but Lincoln personally knew those people. They weren’t the ungrateful type.

            The door to the compartment that he and Octavia shared opened. Seeing that it was Bellamy was disappointing and Lincoln wished that he didn’t have to feel disappointed at the idea of seeing the boy that he thought of as his friend.

            “Why?” he asked him after Bellamy closed the door behind him. “Why did you do that to me back there?”

            “I had to or you would have been in the holding cell with them for interfering with an arrest,” Bellamy stated as he sat in the chair next to the bed. “I can’t afford to have you placed in lock up, Lincoln.”

            Lock up seemed better than being free to roam around here. Not with Pike being Chancellor.

            “It’s okay to let Pike lock them up and not me?” he demanded, not understanding the logic that was manifesting in Bellamy at the moment. Were _Trikru_ in the wrong for attacking the first group of _Skaikru_ and did Lexa dishonor their ethical code, even if both actions were rationalized as what was best? Yes, he still believed all of those things but to lump _Trikru_ ’s past actions with _Azgeda_ ’s recent atrocities?

            Bellamy hesitated. “Pike couldn’t take the risk of allowing them in the medical bay,” he answered.

            “They are too sick to fight,” he pointed out. “I know these people. They would have been thankful for the medical treatment they received. What threat do they pose?”

            Bellamy’s silence was enough to prove that he didn’t have an answer. That he couldn’t rationalize it like he did that massacre in the field. Head throbbing from yesterday’s assault, he reached for the bottle of ibuprofen.

            “You told Clarke that what your people were doing was wrong,” Bellamy stated. “Why did you defend that army when it was obvious that they might not have an intention to not attack this settlement?”

            He could understand the distrust that Bellamy held for _Trikru_ in general for what happened when they first landed and for Lexa leaving them; and for _Azgeda_ with their atrocities. However, he wished that Bellamy trusted him when he said that the army was there to protect them.

            “Did I tell that to Clarke? Yes and I still stand by that,” he answered. “I still stand by that it was a dishonor for Lexa to leave you. However, I know _Trikru_ enough that this army wouldn’t have turned the other way and attacked you with that army. _Azgeda_ was considered a threat since the end of last year and are probably still a threat. Not your clan this time. Also, I have been part of such formations before.”

            He regretted not telling Bellamy about such formations.

            “The _Azgeda_ war chief had a thing for launching attacks against villages that were predominantly populated with civilians,” Lincoln continued. “Probably because they were considered easy kill. They wouldn’t leave many behind alive. In response, the Commander in power would utilize peacekeeping forces to protect other villages from further acts of unprovoked aggression, such as the one that you helped slaughter.”

            Guilt riddled Bellamy’s features. “Lincoln, I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I should have trusted your word.”

            “I regret not telling you in the past few months,” he pointed out. “While I still believe that what my people were doing to yours was wrong, what Pike did to my people was equally wrong.”

             “This is all on me, Lincoln,” he agonized. “I was the one that armed Pike and his people. It was me that wouldn’t listen to reason when one of my friends tried to talk me down. This isn’t your fault, Lincoln.”

            Even if Bellamy didn’t think it was his fault, there would people among _Trikru_ that would say that this wouldn’t have happened if he didn’t neglect to inform about these formations beforehand. That he betrayed them in some way.

            The door opened and Octavia strides in. Features stern and his fists balled. “We need to go,” she dictated, completely ignoring her brother’s presence.

            Leaving. He didn’t want to abandon the portion of his people that were wrongfully interned by Pike, for it would be violating _Trikru_ ’s ethical code. That it was more honorable to die or be incarcerated then betray their clan and allies. He’d rather be incarnated along with them then leave them…

Yet, even if he was bereaved of his clan, he still had to support those outside of Arkadia. Even if he understood the source of Pike’s anger, he didn’t like that he punished _Trikru_ for something that _Azgeda_ did.

Lincoln slowly got up from the bed; promptly following Octavia through the corridor. Kane saw them out; allowing them access through a paneling. Bellamy was there too but he wasn’t going to stay too long given the older _Skaikru_ man’s cold and hard gaze. Like he didn’t trust him.

“Lexa said that Clarke was in Polis on diplomacy,” Kane explained. “I figured that she might need security after all that has happened.”

Lincoln wouldn’t doubt that as the massacre might embolden some ambassadors to hire assassins to kill her for vengeance against what happened to that army.

“Wells said that he heard from Mrs. Griffin that the conflict with Ice Nation was resolved yesterday,” Bellamy stated. “Clarke was supposed to come back.”

“Well, she’d be returning home hadn’t you armed that group and killed everyone,” Octavia spat out in venom. “Now she has to do damage control for that mess.”

Bellamy stood back as if Octavia had slapped him in the face. There was no need for the venom used.

Without detection, he and Octavia left Arkadia into the cold February dusk. Snow softly falling from the sky as they headed towards the trees to their destination.

 

* * *

 

            A light dinner was followed by a dessert of scrumptious gingerbread pudding served with chocolate goat milk. Even then, the blizzard had no intention of letting up until midnight most likely.

            “ _Looks like they will have to shovel the snow early tomorrow_ ,” Roan observed as he took a sip of wine. Even with the white out, it was glaringly obvious that the snowdrifts were covering the bottom of the main door to the lodge.

            Though the drifts here were nothing compared to the ones in Gara and in that area, blizzards were known to last for a couple of days at the least.

            “ _We’re a six hour wagon ride from Gara where we are standing_ ,” Earl Gwenhwyvar pointed out from her seat. “ _If you leave early tomorrow morning, you and your future bride might get there before lunch_.”

            “ _True_ ,” Roan answered. That would give him the time he needed to address the issues that are currently on his plate. Introducing the concept of channeling _Wanheda_ ’s ability via matrimony and of course the issue with Costia would be addressed. With his mother dead, her captivity was basically void and among the first things he will do as king would be to arrange a caravan to Polis so she could reunite with Lexa and her clan.

            Though Costia being alive was among the things he had yet to tell Clarke. Basically due to the logistics surrounding situation.

            Gazing at Clarke, she was sitting by the fire. Earlier she had been reading a book, though she was accompanied by Lavinia and Roscoe. It seemed that they wanted her to tell a story of some sorts, judging by how animated she was. Using her hands and facial expressions.

            Not far from them, Lord Erik was reading a book. Too immersed in the literature he was reading to pay attention what was happening nearby.

            “ _Speaking of Wanheda, it appears that my children have seemed to grow a fondness to her already_ ,” the Earl observed with a gentle smile.

            “ _I’m not blind to that_ ,” he answered, his eyes not leaving Clarke. Who proceeded to pull out a piece of paper and displaying what she was illustrating. Perhaps that Space Castle that she lived for the first years of her life.

            It might be too early to tell, if he was certain, but she might be a better mother then what his own mother was to him and his young sister. Though just the idea of having a child with her was tantalizing sweet. Having a child would be expected of him anyway as it was one of the things needed to ascend to the throne.

            An hour later, like they both knew that turning in for the night early would enable to get up early to disembark, they retreated to the Monarch Chambers. Latching the door behind them to enable privacy.

            “Out of everything, being asked about whether I was an alien and questions regarding life up in space was more preferable then…you know what I mean,” Clarke whispered as they lay under the furs; stripped to their undergarments as their clothes lay on the floor; their bodies pressed together. “At least they learned about a life that was different then their own.”

            He pressed a kiss against her forehead while stroking her hair. “Though you might get more questions about the Mountain then your previous life when we reach the capital,” he pointed out. “Even if they heard the story they will want to hear it from the person who did the deed. It might seem more real.”

            Stories told by the people who did the act were considered a treasure. It was considered a wonder to hear from a warrior of the acts they did. Like they were there with them.

            “I know, Roan,” she sighed. “They are going to want to know every gory detail about what happened. Not to mention that they might want me to finish the job, which I would do without hesitation.”

            Finish the job. If he didn’t know any better, he’d ask what she would mean by that since every single parasite residing in Mount Weather was annihilated. He heard recently that his people were able to destroy Mount Weather with the Mountain’s self-destruct sequence. Logically speaking, the only way for it to conceivably happen was if the last remaining parasite gave them the info.

            Even if it was illogical as they were all weak to the environment.

            “So, one of them is still alive,” he wagered.

            “I assumed that he got enough bone marrow to be resistant to the radiation,” Clarke confirmed. “Even if he gave them information to use against Lexa, he’s probably outlived his usefulness. I wouldn’t be surprised if there are those among Ice Nation that would rather have him dead.”

            “They probably would see him as a strain of resources,” he emitted. His mother’s pawns were known for not lasting long. In fact, perhaps there would be those within Ice Nation that would be happy that his mother’s death meant that they were no longer obligated not to touch him. Though he would prefer it if they had the common sense to leave him untouched until he arrived to Gara.

            Justice for the _Azgedakru_ lives that the Mountain Men took along with _Trikru_ lives needed to be properly served. Besides, it would serve as a show of force. Something that every monarch had to do upon ascending to the throne.

            “The first thing I want to do, after the wedding ceremony, is to take care of him,” she said. “That way both our clans will finally get the justice that they deserve. We owe them that.”

            He nodded, though he braced himself for what he was going to say. “Aside from a show of force, there is also something that I want to do when I get back to the palace,” he revealed.

            “And what is that?” she asked.

            He sighed. “I apologize for not being honest about this sooner but when I told you my end of the story of how I got banished, well, the only detail that wasn’t true was about Costia,” he answered.

            Clarke’s eyes widened, as if she picked up on that. “You mean she’s not…?”

            He nodded.

            “But your mother sent Lexa her head,” Clarke disputed, narrowing her eyes.

            “The queen sent Lexa a head that was too disfigured beyond recognition,” he explained. “She believed that if those that she loved thought that she was dead, it would enable her to recreate her identity without trouble. I asked Echo to look after her for me before I was banished. To help her adapt.”

            “But why though?” Clarke asked. “What was it about Costia that would make your mother hold her captive instead of killing her?”

            “The same reason why she captured Ontari,” he answered. “She’s a _Natblida_. Though I doubt that molding her into a Commander was on the agenda for she wanted people to think that she was dead.”

            If Clarke was furious with him, there was no trace of it. But it was like another piece of information he let out interested her more. “Ontari is not Ice Nation?” she asked.

            “She was a young child when she was brought to the capital after the queen sanctioned an attack against her village in _Podakru_ territory,” he revealed, remembering that she was a very frightened little girl when warriors brought her into the palace to present her to his mother. “I don’t think that she remembers her real name, as she was most likely traumatized to that point. My mother always kept her around her most of the time. Basically to mold her into her image.”

            Though the same could be said for Echo and most of those under his mother’s tutelage; that he probably was one of the few that went unscathed.

            He and Clarke held onto each other closely that night. Roan was dimly aware of Clarke growing restless beside him. Her shallow and quick breathing suggesting that it was one of those nightmares or maybe spawned by the information he gave her.

            He tightened his hold; leaning over to her side to stroke her hair and whisper the northern _Azgeda_ lullaby in her ear. If the effect wasn’t instantaneous, it was gradual instead. She relaxed in his arms. Blissfully content with his embrace it seems.

            Early the next morning, a few hours after the furious blizzard dwindled into nothing but a calm flurry, was when they dressed and ate a little breakfast before setting back out to their destination. Parting ways with the Earl’s family until he would see them again.

             

           


	20. Chapter Twenty

The sky was a dark blue when they left the lodge. Flurries falling as they continued their way towards the Ice Nation capital. Moments when the carriage began moving, Roan had offered her a spare pair of wool gloves that were in the cubby above them.

            “Here,” he offered as she took them from his hands. “Regardless of the weather, you’re going to need them anyway.”

            Though soft, they were scratchy on the skin. Though it didn’t matter. For Clarke was going to need warm garments and for extra measure, she pulled up an extra pair of socks over her feet. Pushing her feet into her boots before setting back into her seat.

            With the blizzard last night, she would have assumed that the massive drifts and accumulated snow would make it difficult to travel. Not before it occurred to her that they lined the pathways with rock. An effort that most likely took years to achieve.

            They had to make sure that pathways were always clear for carriages.

            The weather was clement for the morning. With an occasional flurry or two before the sky cleared up late morning. As they were going high in elevation, the temperature dropped and the trees changed.

            Yards behind them were stone walls of villages every now and then.

            Ontari was basically silent throughout the trip. Silent as she read a copy of what appeared to be Charles Dickens’ _A Tale of Two Cities_. Thinking about what Roan told her the previous night, she felt an inkling of sympathy. She couldn’t imagine being torn from her home at the age of six and kept under a microscope because of that Nightblood.

            Though it appeared that his mother wanted to covet every _Natblida_ that she came across considering her imprisonment of Costia.

            “Watch your ears for it,” he told her the moment she saw ice form on trees from the ground up. The pine needles basically white as the snow. “We’re just entering the White Forest, so we should be an hour or two away.”

            Clarke nodded. The White Forest was around their capital, Roan informed her months ago. It spanned for miles he said and one of the indicators that they were close to the capital. There was bound to be a checkpoint when they got close.

            As for “watch your ears for it,” most likely he was referring to the Niagara Falls. From what she read, you could hear them before you see them and she supposed that it was true after two hundred years.

            “Dashing through the snow,” she sang under her breath as she gazed at the frozen landscape before her. Eyeing the mountains from a distant with wonder. They had like a glacial overlay with all the snow on them; though maybe the snow was mixed in with glaciers.

            Oh how she envied him with the sights that he surrounded himself in back when he was younger. Seeing the moon everyday was beautiful but this even surpassed the beauty of the moon.

            Clarke was preoccupied with the sight of a group of moose when she heard the faint roar of rushing water from a distance. Gradually becoming louder as they grew closer.

            “Wait for it,” he prompted softly. The roaring water reached full volume when Clarke saw it. Her eyes widening as she saw a wide and giant ribbon of water filling into a body of water below it. Why, this was better than how she envisioned it when she drew the Niagara Falls in snow.

            Actually seeing the Niagara Falls and actually hearing its roaring waters was better than seeing it those film reels that were stored on the Ark. Clarke could actually feel her lips in a wide smile. A smile that she never had since she first landed.

            For some reason, it felt like the day when she and other members of the hundred reached the ground.

            “Loving it?” he asked her.

            “This is better than seeing mere footage,” she answered, turning to face him. Clarke could see that he was breaking into a boyish grin. Like a small boy receiving what he wanted on Christmas day.  Though Roan quickly worked his features to that of regal austerity.

            Probably because Ontari was looking at him disapprovingly.

            Between the trees, Clarke could see armed people wearing white fur laden overcoats. Most likely on patrol with the way they carried themselves. Some with wolves accompanying them.

            The carriage slowed to a stop as she closed the shutters to the window on her side. Even if they guessed correctly that she might be coming, it was best to close the windows to avoid a ruckus.

            “ _You carry the king and his mother’s former attendant?_ ” the coachmen are asked.

            “ _Yes, and an additional passenger_ ,” was the answer. “ _The surprise he mentioned_.”

            “ _Carry on_ ,” said the guard and the carriage resumed traveling onward. Initially, Clarke assumed that they would inspect the carriage to verify that surprise before she concluded that with this carriage, they were not to ask further questions. As to not hold them up.

            “Welcome to Gara, Clarke,” Roan said after a minute.

            “Welcome home, your majesty,” Ontari informed him. “Your kingdom awaits.”

           

* * *

 

            Costia and Echo were dimly aware of the ruckus as they both excited their cabin. The former could make out a group of people jumping someone that appeared to be curled in a ball on the snow.

            As usual, members of the guard were glancing at the ensuing beat down before continuing their way. Traditionally, Costia didn’t seem to care who it was.

            Echo, however, looked like she was going to have none of it. For she ran towards the group.

            “ _Hey, break it up!_ ” she exclaimed. “ _Do you want Helmut to have our hides for this? We’re not animals!_ ”

            The crowd parted and Costia could see that it was the last remaining parasite. His nose bleeding and appearing worse for wear as he shielded his face. Honestly, she couldn’t understand why Echo would prevent them from continuing to beat him to death.

            He was no longer under Nia’s protection since she was dead.

            Echo crinkled her nose in disgust as she looked at him. “ _Get him to the medical cabin and get him out of here before someone alerts Helmut_ ,” she seethed.

            “ _The queen is dead_ ,” Maven pointed out as two people helped the parasite to his feet. “ _What is the point of keeping this leech alive? After all, he did outlive his usefulness_.”

            “ _The queen may be dead but her son, Roan, is now our king_ ,” Echo pointed out. “ _Whatever happens to this parasite, we should leave for him to decide. His fate is in the hands of the new king_.”

            “ _Why would he care?_ ” Juniper protested. “ _He’s been gone for five years_.”

            “ _Would you rather I inform Sir Helmut?_ ” Echo threatened. At that, those who were beating the parasite to a pulp dispersed. The best decision that they made for the head of the Royal Guard would no doubt inform Roan about this.

            Though one of the bystanders told him already probably. Costia wouldn’t be surprised.

            The bell from the city square rang and if she could hear correctly, some people were shouting: “ _He’s returned home! Roan is back! The king has returned!_ ”

            That meant that his carriage returned.

            “ _At last_ ,” Echo breathed like this was a godsend. As if she was waiting for this moment. She turned to Costia. “ _I suppose you might want to go to your post. I’m sure that Roan would no doubt send for you if something changes_.”

            That’s what Costia feared: that Roan would revoke her imprisonment and send her home. Which he would without a shadow of a doubt. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to return home. She craved it more than anything.

            However, she’d rather stay here and continue her virtual imprisonment then face the rejection of her clan. They wouldn’t want her after five years.

 

* * *

 

            Roan could see that Clarke was peering through the metal lattice of the shutters to get a glimpse of the city. He wouldn’t doubt that they exited the first outer blocks – the slums where the deeply impoverished and _frikdreinas_ roamed – and have entered the middle sector of the city where the merchants roamed. Just before the city center.

            As restless as he was to get out of the carriage to see the city itself regarding any changes, he composed himself. He was a king now and monarchs had to display an excellent level of decorum. Kings were strong leaders, not little boys that were still following their mentors.

            A wealth of activity was heard, per usual in Gara. Most likely the locals visiting the merchants to purchase the things that they need. Though there would be temporary hushes when the carriage would pass through.

            It was proper protocol. One had to stop speaking and move away in the presence of the royal carriage. Even if his arrival was seen with anticipation.

            They seemed to have reached the royal core of the city when he could hear the giant wooden gates open with a loud creak. The excited adrenaline reaching his fingertips.

            _Focus, Roan_ , he mentally reminded himself. _I know you are excited to be home. Excited to reunite with family and old friends but you’re a king now. Now’s not the time to behave like an idle little boy_.

            There was an anticipated chatter as the carriage came to a stop. Clarke hunched her shoulders; biting her lip and swallowing repeatedly.

            He wasn’t surprised that she would be anxious. She was on strange and unfamiliar territory that she never stepped foot in before.

            “ _Listen to me and follow my lead_ ,” he encouraged, taking her hand and looking at her. “ _You have nothing to worry about with me_.”

            “ _That’s sugarcoating it, I would think_ ”, Ontari vocalized. “ _She should be worried. She’s Skaikru in Azgeda territory. She basically tried assassinating your mother_.”

            “ _You are not going to mention it to anyone_ ,” he threatened, not appreciating that she was seeding some more doubt regarding the reception he might receive. “ _It would be pointless since Lexa killed her_.”

            “ _Don’t worry, that secret is safe with me_ ,” she said. “ _Though that doesn’t mean that I will be happy with her as your queen_.”

            It was obvious that she was only doing this for his benefit, which wasn’t in itself, bad. If Ontari wasn’t given the oath to be loyal to his mother and by extension the sovereign family, he would be worried about her wanting to avenge his mother’s death.

            Though there was the unpleasant idea that some might break that oath in thinking they are acting in his interests.

            The door to his right opened and he gave Ontari permission to exit first. To assure Clarke that she wouldn’t backstab them. He placed his hand on Clarke’s back as his other hand was holding hers.

            Supporting her as he helped her exit the carriage after him. Steadying her as her feet reached the aged pavement. The palace, a monstrosity that was built in the centuries before Praimfaya (specifically around the eighteenth and nineteenth century), was as he remembered it. it would be stupid to think that it would change.

            Guiding Clarke to the palace doors, he wasn’t oblivious that she was lifting her eyes to scale the enormity of the palace from under that wide hood obscuring her identity. Probably trying to brand it in her memory.

            Though she took a step behind him when they reached the ancient double doors, which opened as if people were waiting for them. Of course, people would be waiting for him. What else would he expect?

            The person greeting him was the head of the Royal Guard. The same one that was there when he left. That didn’t surprise him one bit.

            And Echo was with him. The downside of this regal and stoic exterior was that he had to refrain herself from hugging her. A struggle that she was having as well given her balled fists.

            Given her role with Mount Weather’s destruction, well, he’d make sure that she had new priorities. Besides, he would speak about it with her.

            “ _Welcome back, your majesty_ ,” Sir Helmut greeted as he kneeled on one knee.

            “ _Welcome home, my king_ ,” Echo greeted, kneeling as well. He was aware of Clarke shifting between both feet nervously.

            “ _Stand_ ,” he prompted, as they obeyed his command. “ _You don’t know how long I have longed for this day_.”

            “ _Your mother hoped that this day would come_ ,” Helmut vocalized as he shook his hand and patted his back. “ _Yet, I’m sure she was hoping that she would bring you with her instead of this_.”

            “ _Did she now?_ ” Roan asked. Oh how he’d wish that they wouldn’t bring her up. Yet by protocol, he had to acknowledge her reign. For if a monarch didn’t acknowledge their predecessor was considered a dishonor. “ _Unfortunately, it couldn’t happen_.”

            “ _It’s what many of us would have wanted_ ,” Echo stated. “ _Too bad it didn’t turn out as planned. She was a fierce monarch of her days_.”

            A ruthless queen that people were afraid of. Paralyzing fear that was.

            “ _And I see that you brought someone with you_ ,” Helmut observed as he crossed over to where Clarke was standing. “ _Is she that surprise you were talking about?_ ”

            He lowered her hood and Roan saw Helmut and Echo’s eyes widen with surprise. Echo removed a piece of folded paper from her overcoat. Unfolding it and looking at it before glancing at Clarke.

            “ _So, you brought her with you?_ ” Echo asked, glancing at Clarke like Christmas had come. “ _Wanheda_.”

            In his memory, only Lexa was in possession of an illustration of her likeness. Curiously baffled, he took the paper from Echo’s hand to investigate. It was a picture where Clarke and Lexa were circled in red ink. Probably a couple months old from his guess. There was only one explanation where it came from.

            In the meantime –

            “ _Take Wanheda to the interim room until I call for her to the throne hall_ ,” Roan instructed, folding the picture and pocketing it. “ _I am positive that my siblings and the advising council are waiting for my audience_.”

            “ _They have gathered there a few minutes before you arrived, sire_ ,” Helmut answered as Roan gave his cloak to the attendant.

            Why didn’t that surprise him? “ _Well, I will say that we shouldn’t dawdle_ ,” Roan said. “ _Best not to keep them waiting as they might have other things they need to do_.”

            “ _Of course, your majesty_ ,” Echo answered before he followed them towards the throne hall. Not oblivious to Clarke’s gaze at him as she was led to the interim room. If he had it his way, he’d take her to the throne hall with him. Though royal protocol dictated that she would have to wait until he called for her audience.

            And he had to uphold it.

            “ _We are curious to see what you have in mind for her_ ,” Helmut said as they walked towards the giant double doors to the throne hall. “ _Your mother was eager to covet her power_.”

            “ _So I heard_ ,” he drawled, as his mother had every intention of killing her. “ _I have something better in mind for her. Killing her would be…wasteful._ ”

            “ _Wasteful?_ ” Echo asked as Helmut entered the throne hall to announce his presence. “ _Don’t you want to wield her power?_ ”

            “ _There are other ways to channel her ability, Echo_ ,” he reminded her. “ _Not just killing her_.”

            “ _I don’t like the sound of that_ ,” she muttered as he walked into the massive room. It’s ancient architecture still the same as it was since he left. Roan turned his eyes towards his expected audience in the room.

            His siblings were the ones he noticed first. All three of them standing up from their seats at the table near the dais that held the throne. Even if they physically matured, they haven’t changed much.

            _“Roan_!” Nymeria exclaimed as she launched towards him as his two other siblings walked towards him. When she threw her arms around him with enthusiasm, he didn’t hesitate to return the gesture. “ _You’re back!_ ”

            He chuckled as he patted her back. “ _It’s good to see you again_ ,” he breathed. Though good was too much of an understatement.

            He hugged her tightly before drawing away. Though practically the same, she did mature in some aspects. Regarding the absence of a facial brand on her forehead, he wasn’t surprised if their mother deemed her unworthy to receive one. He wouldn’t be surprised.

            “ _I see that five years wasn’t too cruel for you_ ,” Aspen observed as he reached towards Roan. Shaking his hand before lightly hugging him. Compared to Nymeria, he did receive his brand. Wouldn’t surprise him.

            So far, he didn’t seem to change much.

            “ _It wouldn’t have been if I didn’t know any better_ ,” he vocalized. “ _I was just glad that I had the stealth to avoid the Reapers_.”

            Lagertha leaned forward and hugged him. Wrapping her arms around him tightly before drawing back. Smiling as she looked at him. “ _With the beard, you’re no longer the boy that walked out of the palace gates when mother sent you away_ ,” she said.

            “ _I have no intention of removing it_ ,” he answered.

            Looking towards the council of advisors – which consisted of six men and six women – he saw that they appeared rather stern and stiff. Some appearing colder than the majority.

            Not that it surprised him. They probably weren’t too happy that his mother was succeeded by a son that was known to be rebellious.

            “ _I understand that these are not the circumstances of how you expected me to return_ ,” he broadcasted to the advisors. “ _Unfortunately, we can’t have anything go as planned_.”

            “ _It would have been better if your mother returned with you in tow_ ,” Magnus vocalized as he stood from his seat. “ _What matters to the whole of Azgeda that even if a leader fell under unfortunate circumstances, their crown prince returned to them as king_.”

            _“Not like I was surprised_ ,” Lagertha muttered under her breath. “ _It was bound to happen when she challenged the Commander_.”

            Roan expected for Aspen to utter in protest. To go on about their mother’s infallibility and that the challenge was rigged. His lack of such a reaction was stunning to say the very least. Did their mother banishing him without difficulty change that?

“ _It was said that you were bringing a surprise with you_ ,” Ealhswith stated icily as she fidgeted with her ring. “ _Hopefully, you read your mother’s mind and brought Wanheda with you_.”

            _I did bring her_ , he thought when he turned to one of the guards standing in the room. “ _Summon her from the interim room_ ,” he whispered. “ _It’s time to present her_.”

            The guard left as he turned back to his audience. “ _It is within my expectation that you wouldn’t be disappointed with my decision_ ,” he answered. “ _It would be after all, what you wanted me to accomplish when I arrived back_.”

            Seeing members of the advising council nod, he was thankful that he was able to get their attention but the hurdle was making sure that they saw wider possibilities. He wouldn’t doubt it with most of the council. “ _Though I have a different idea how to tackle this particular subject, I might add_.”

            Magnus nodded. “ _Predictable_ ,” he emitted. “ _For what we know, it might be a better strategy then what your mother came up with_.”

            Roan could hear Echo coughing. Though it was positive she was hiding a snort of derision. Abbott rolled his eyes as if such an idea was ludicrous.

            The door opened and he looked to the guard; who nodded. It was time. “ _Hopefully your reception doesn’t disappoint_.” He swallowed as he could feel the tension beginning to rise in the room. “ _To keep you from waiting, I am privileged to introduce Wanheda_ ,” he announced, gesturing to the doors that swung open. “ _Clarke of the Sky People, the Mountain Slayer_.”

            Clarke was slowly walking through the doors. Carrying herself with that same stance she did when she made her entrance at the Polis Summit. Appearing like she was a force of nature. Like it didn’t make her nervous that dozens of pairs of eyes were on her as she crossed to him.

            Her presence evoked a mixed reaction. Lagertha and Aspen exchanged glances like something didn’t meet their expectations. Nymeria shrunk back from him and their siblings; her eyes wide with fear.

            With the advising council, it ranged from slight indifference to widening their eyes in surprise. Like they couldn’t believe that _Wanheda_ was before them in the flesh. Magnus went slack with awe and froze in his seat.

            From Roan’s peripheral vision, he could see Echo narrowing her eyes as she clutched her knife handle. Like she was ready to intervene if something happened unfavorably.

            Clarke kneeled to one knee. _“I am honored to be in the presence of King Roan and the royal court_ ,” she stated proudly. Though he knew that she might have rehearsed this over and over while waiting to be introduced.

            He offered his hand and she took it; raising herself to her feet. Tension palpable as Lagertha approached Clarke. Her eyes gazing at her as she drew closer. Clarke balled her hands, not moving an inch as his sister casually assessed her before dismissing her with a single glance.

            “ _Interesting,_ ” she contended. “ _With all the fuss about you, I would have assumed that you’d be taller actually. Like that of an amazon warrior_.”

            “ _Size is no guarantee of power, Lagertha_ ,” Roan pointed out. “ _She can still carry on a fight, though I wouldn’t encourage trying it_.”

            “ _Not bad on the eyes either_ ,” Aspen assessed, looking at Clarke from her legs to her torso.  “ _Basically the living epitome ‘if looks could kill’. I sure wouldn’t want to get on her bad side_.”

            Roan scoffed, as his brother’s input wasn’t what he needed. “ _Enough with the theatrics_ ,” Roan dictated. Clarke was rigid; her hands behind her back. She was doing well so far. Succeeding in appearing strong. Though that didn’t mean that stress was probably mounting within her from this attention of people that are mere strangers to her.

            “ _Since you stated that your intent with Wanheda is completely different than your mother’s, we are eager for you to share it_ ,” Siegfried brought up.

            _Here it comes_ , he thought to himself. “ _I am aware of the legend of killing someone to gain their ability but how I see it, what makes her powerful is her life force_ ,” he publicized. “ _Commanding death is more complicated than what you might think. Someone has to be familiar with making certain decisions in wielding it. Having spent time with her and hearing about her exploits, I am confident to tell you that it’s no hyperbole_.”

After allowing his audience to digest his words, he continued, “ _As controversial as this might seem, instead of snuffing the life out of her, I believe I will utilize her power best via matrimony_. _Therefore binding our clans into one._ ”

Though the council broke in mutters, Echo’s reaction was immediate. “ _A Sky Girl as our queen? Uniting with Skaikru?_ ” she seethed. “ _That’s blasphemous, Roan_!”

“ _Silence, Echo_ ,” Helmut chided. “ _The king has spoken_.”

Roan should have known that Echo would have her reservations about this. As staunchly loyal she was to his deceased mother.

“ _Wanheda as our haiplana_ ,” Magnus surmised. “ _Basing what we heard about her exploits when she first landed in Trikru territory, I have no reason to believe that your method isn’t sound_.”

“ _Her people killed some of ours_ ,” Cenwulf hissed, looking at Clarke like she was nothing but vermin. “ _Having someone that fell from the sky and whose people committed atrocities against ours is an insult to Queen Nia’s legacy and all of Azgeda_. _And you expect us to believe that we’ll except the union of the two clans_.”

“ _The king is Azgeda_ ,” Angrboda argued.

 _“I still stand by Nia’s original decision but if Magnus thinks it’s something worthwhile, it most likely is_ ,” asserted Margrethe. “ _After all, the king has two prerequisites to fill, even if he has the throne. All he would need is an heir_. _Besides, it won’t hurt if we attempt at civility. I would be surprised if Skaikru didn’t cooperate for the sake of their continuity._ ”

For the sake of Clarke’s anxiety level and for his own, he decided that it was best to see how many of the council approved of his decision. Even if he was going to go forward of it and if Magnus’s opinion was the final say regardless of how many of his peers would approve of his decision. “ _In a show of hands, how many are content with Clarke kom Skaikru as your queen and our union with Skaikru?_ ”

Magnus was first, followed by Margarethe, and gradually six more raised their hands. If anything, when people swear an oath of loyalty to the sitting monarchs or monarch, that loyalty is extended to their family as well. If that family member were to ascend the throne, the subordinates are conditioned to follow that person as if they were their predecessor.

Which may have been the logical factor why the majority of the advising council was in favor of his decision. The remaining four – Cenwulf, Blaeja, Ordalf, and Gardar – frowned in defiance. Making it glaringly obvious about their stance.

Still, eight to four would work in his favor. A majority vote was just what he needed. As for his siblings though, well –

“ _You have no reservations about this, I would assume_ ,” he said.

“ _You’re the king, Roan_ ,” Lagertha pointed out. “ _If you think that marrying Wanheda is a better way to utilize her power and it’s for our benefit to bind our clan with Skaikru, then it must be_.”

“ _It’s your kingdom, now,”_ Aspen notated _. “You have total reign. You don’t need to ask for our input_.”

Aspen did have a point. He was the king and can do whatever he thought was best without the consent of his people. Though, it was best to make sure that the council had their say. It was their job to consult with the monarch even if their decision was set in stone. Not to mention he thought it was necessary to bring up another option to make sure that they are open to that alternative.

“ _It’s settled_ ,” he announced. “ _Have someone make an announcement. That tomorrow they will begin to witness the matrimonial union of their king and Wanheda_.”

He thought he heard Echo swear under her breath; not hiding her disdain. It was crystal clear that his edict didn’t sit well with her. She could be a problem if he didn’t know better, though he’ll have to talk to her for some assurance.

For if he was to promote Echo to the head of the Royal Guard, that meant that her loyalty was not just to him but to Clarke as well.

 

* * *

 

Though Clarke didn’t show it, she was practically unnerved when Roan made her introduction to the royal court. Uncomfortable as seventeen unfamiliar pairs of eyes were on her with varying reactions.

When an older girl that appeared to be one of his sisters approached to assess her, Clarke stood her ground as she did when Lexa sized her up the same way months ago when she first met her. The way she carried herself was disturbingly reminiscent of Nia. Shouldn’t be surprising as she was her daughter.

The comment by his brother about it was fitting about she’d command death due to her attractiveness and the fact that Roan’s younger sister looked like she might piss herself at the sight of her didn’t help matters any. From cold indifference to sheer horror.

Lunch and dinner with them was going to go swell.

Even if the majority of the council was in favor of her becoming queen, Echo’s outburst and the outburst of one council member was all she needed to realize that there will be those that will not accept her. It was even clear that the majority were in favor due to her infamy and their loyalty to the crown.

At the mention that she needed to undergo some fitting arrangements while Roan had some affairs to handle before lunch, one part of her was relieved that it gave her an excuse to not be scrutinized. Though the other half was uncertain whether the guards sent to escort her away were not going to backstab their king or not. Though it was more worrisome that he allowed Echo to go with them.

Though that meant he must trust her to not backstab him, even after five years. Then again, he personally knew him for most of his life before his banishment.

She followed them up a few floors; stopping at the third landing before following them through some corridors. It was like there was paint applied somewhere a few hours before by the smell of it.

When Echo approached a set of double doors, which were opened by two guards, Clarke instinctively wrapped herself in her arms.

Like she had a feeling that it would be cold. Probably the feeling of this place evoked that. And she found herself to be correct.

In a lavishly set room decorated with animal trophies, dust was prominent in the air. Given that it felt like a freezer and that she could see her breath, it was obvious that whoever possessed the room didn’t visit it for a few years.

This had to be Roan’s bedchambers given the feeling of neglect and where else would they take her for a fitting?

“ _I don’t understand why they neglected to warm up the room before he got here_ ,” Echo said to herself as Clarke witnessed two people light a fire in the antique fireplace. They must have done it many times before if they showed no caution. “ _Though it should be by tonight. I’ll send for the tailor_.”

Guards left the room though Echo didn’t leave where she stood. Her eyes practically stabbing her with her gaze, though Clarke wasn’t willing to show that it’s what it felt like. For here it could mean a death sentence.

“ _Let me make myself clear: I don’t trust you and if I had my way, I’d gut you alive_ ,” she threatened between her teeth. “ _You should be lucky that Roan has you under his protection and that I can’t touch you when you desecrate his mother’s throne by sitting in it_.”

Clarke glared at her. Though it was impossible that Ontari told her about the assassination attempt, it was most likely because Clarke was _Skaikru_ why Echo was afraid that she would desecrate Nia’s throne. “ _Your king wouldn’t have gone forward with this if he thought I would_ ,” she hissed.

Echo scoffed. “ _Only because he was probably susceptible to whatever psychological sorcery that you might have pulled, Wanheda_ ,” she said, walking towards the door. “ _He’ll wake up one of these days and I don’t want to be the one to tell him_ ‘ _I told you, so’_.”

The heat rushed to her neck and face as Echo closed the door behind her. Well, she’ll show her that she has no sinister intent. Yes, this marriage treaty was her idea but Roan wasn’t stupid enough to be conned.

Echo. Why did that name sound familiar? Wasn’t she the one who brought Bellamy, Octavia, and Pike to the Polis Summit under false pretenses? The only reason why he wouldn’t do anything would be is if he was going to offer her something.

While waiting for the tailor come up, Clarke looked around the sitting room of his chambers. Glancing at everything from the aged furniture to the hunting trophies that were in various places in the room.

While Clarke could easily place some animals, like the head of a moose or a bear, there were animals that appeared as if the radiation affected their genetic make-up. On the floor close to the door leading to what might be where he slept, there was what looked like a bear rug with the head still attached. She bent closer to analyze it.

Finding herself wincing upon glancing at its opened eyes and intact teeth.

Looking over them, it was apparent that these hunting trophies were collected over a period of a few years. Starting from his early teens to when he was banished.

As if childlike curiosity filled her mind, she opened one of the knobs to the second set of double doors. Clarke covering her nose as the air was heavy with dust and aged furs. Facing her from that room was a king sized bed; the headboard presenting an intricately carved picture of some sort.

And stepping inside, it was obvious that the bed wasn’t his only piece of furniture in this sleeping area; for there were a set of chairs and a nightstand. This was where he slept and it was haunting to think that he woke up here one morning not knowing that he wouldn’t return to sleep here.

She and ninety-nine others didn’t think that they would spend one last night in the SkyBox before being sent down to the Earth.

Clarke backed away from his sleeping area into the sitting room; closing the door and distancing herself from it just as she heard one of the knobs move from the main set of doors move.  Her palms sweaty as her heart pounded in apprehension.

She knew it could be the palace tailor though that did nothing to alleviate any tension.

Clarke guessed that she’s been through enough to be suspicious of everything.

The doors opened and the visitor turned out to be a slightly heavyset woman in her early thirties. A tape measure over her shoulders. She practically would have been hard faced had not for the small smile that broke across her face at the sight of her.

“ _Why wouldn’t you turn heads_ ,” she mused as she walked towards her. “ _I see that the king choose wisely_.” The woman offered her hand as a another girl that must be her assistant followed in. “ _My name is Anneke_.”

And of course, it shouldn’t surprise her that a tailor would focus on her appearance first as part of her job. That she would be like some doll to find a nice dress in.

As for the introduction, Clarke took her hand. “I am Clarke, though I suppose you know that,” she introduced. As that was what she was also referred to.

There was no surprise that she was promptly instructed to stand on a stool as the tailor’s assistant took measurements while Anneke took notes.

 “ _What do you think of Ice Nation so far?_ ” was the first question that came out of her mouth.

What does she think of it? So far, Clarke didn’t know what to make of it. Sure, the first few locals aside from Roan were receptive. With two children being more interested in her time up in space then her notoriety like their parents. Though predictably, there was also hostile reception as well by a select few.

What she could manage to say was: “ _It feels literally freezing_.” She could feel the tape measure go around under her bust. The doors opened and a few people came in carrying sheets, blankets, furs, and pillows. Probably to replace the ones on Roan’s bed.

“ _Not used to our cold climate, I see_ ,” she answered. “ _It will take some getting used to after a few months. There is no doubt that you will adapt_.”

Adapt. She adapted after reaching the ground and if she could adapt to life on this planet, she could adapt to these artic conditions. Generation One on the Ark had to adapt to the first years in space and no doubt that a portion of first generation _Azgeda_ had to adapt to these conditions a few years after the bombs.

            Ten minutes later and Anneke said something about making sure that the dress would be ready about tomorrow before making mention of having a trunk of clothes delivered to the room. As the clothes on her back were not enough.

            Her assistant followed her when she left, leaving Clarke with the people that were fixing the bed. She could go over to Roan’s bookshelf and see what titles he used to read; an idea that she eliminated as she might be a distraction to the palace workers.

            It might be risk as the mere title of queen didn’t protect her yet, though she could explore the palace. This was going to be her home for a few months, so exploration would make logical sense.

            Like a shadow, she left the room. Once again back in the corridor that exited to three different hallways. Each one leading to different rooms, it seems. There was the chance that she might stumble upon something that she couldn’t be allowed to see.

            Yet, her curiosity never seemed to fail her.

            She could investigate that strange smell of paint. See where that came from. If she didn’t know better, she’d wonder why she was smelling paint. Paint went back all the way in ancient times; made from natural ingredients before chemicals came into play.

            The scent was strongest at another pair of double doors that were left ajar. Quietly, she opened the door wider. No one was in here, though it was like someone had been in here recently and rushed out to get something.

            Though the furnishings were no different from Roan’s room, canvases leaned up against the wall instead of hunting trophies. The thing that caught Clarke’s attention was the half-finished canvas on a wooden easel.

            This room probably belonged to Roan’s younger sister, Nymeria. He mentioned that she had a thing for painting.

            She stepped into the room, drawing herself closer to the half-finished portrait of what appeared to be an artic fox with amber eyes against a nighttime sky. The outlining faint on the clear parts of the canvas.

            Clarke picked up the brush lying on the edge of the easel where the pallet of paint resided. Turning the black brush, and feeling its coarse texture, it had to be manufactured in the days before the bomb. If the _Xubox_ label wasn’t indicative enough.

            She remembered seeing paint brushes like these in Mount Weather before her escape and there were some in the Ark. Clarke should have known that another set of these brushes survived and were put to use. Perhaps more.

            She resumed her gaze towards the paintings leaning against the wall. Stepping closer to get a good look. Things varying from still life like flowers and fruit to themes like summer portraits and fall scenes. Clarke pulled one finished canvas from where it was wedged between two canvases. Judging by the careful brush strokes and the attention to detail on a Christmas tree and the snow covered cabins, one would think that Thomas Kinkade painted this masterpiece.

            Not shaking the feeling that someone was behind her, Clarke turned to see the blonde girl that looked at her with such fear. Probably Nymeria.

            Her dark blue eyes widened as she backed away when Clarke made eye contact with her.

            “ _Oh_.” Clarke set the canvas down. “ _I was just looking around and noticed that you_ –”

            The girl ran before she could finish and Clarke ran out the door to catch her only to find out that she disappeared. Like a ghost vanishing into thin air.

            _Way to go, Clarke_ , she thought to herself. She never meant to commit near genocide against an entire civilization and everything before that, and this girl was afraid of her before she even met her. That was worse than people wanting her dead for her “power”.

 

* * *

 

            _I apologize for abandoning you again like the last time. Yet, my expanded absence is because I want what’s best for everyone back in Arkadia. You have every right to be disappointed in me, mom._

This one paragraph was what unsettled Abby the most out of everything that was written in Clarke’s letter; which was spotted with dry tear marks. The idea that she’d be disappointed in her for her latest decision.

            She ran her hands through her hair as she took a deep breath. “I understand your decision, Clarke,” she sighed, though she wished that her daughter didn’t feel the need to accompany Ice Nation’s new monarch back to his home in order to affirm his strength to his people.

            Information flowed differently among the Grounder clans, though Abby was all too familiar with the phrase “Bad news travels fast.” She hoped that those in Ice Nation would have the common sense to not think that the massacre would apply to them; that it wouldn’t affect this marriage treaty. That they wouldn’t risk backstabbing their king (and newly-to-be-acquired queen) out of vengeance for something that Clarke had no say in.

            As the door to her new compartment opened, she looked up to see Marcus carrying a cup of coffee. Only he would get the idea that she didn’t sleep well that night after he gave her that letter.

            “I figured you weren’t able to sleep last night,” he indicates as he offered her the cup. “Nice and black.”

            _Thank you_ , she mouthed as she cautiously took the cup from his hands before taking a sip. “I appreciate you for sending Octavia and Lincoln to Polis. Someone has to be there.”

            “Given Lexa’s hesitation when I asked her regarding Clarke’s whereabouts, I thought that it was best not to risk not having our own there,” he replied. “We can’t make things any worse then what they already are.”

            Abby nodded. Though _Azgeda_ ’s inevitable reaction was one thing, Arkadia was another factor. When Clarke and King Roan arranged for this marriage treaty, they most likely had no idea about what might transpire. _Skaikru_ was probably was bound with _Azgeda_ from under their feet by now.

            As of now, an alliance that the current Chancellor had no consent for and couldn’t reject. Clarke wanted her to be the first to know and perpetuate the lie that she was on Polis for diplomacy before revealing the truth. Yet, Abby didn’t know how long that would be and a secret like that would be harder to keep after a long period of time.

            It might not even matter to Pike that Clarke was an excellent student of his if he found out. She’d be regarded as a traitor that threw her own people under the bus.

            For months she wanted her daughter to come home but it would be best if Clarke remained where she was until Pike came to his senses. If he came to his senses

            “Lexa is going to send a lone horse with the message of a trade embargo, she said?” Abby asked him.

            “It should be at the gate around this time,” Marcus assumed. “She said that she was going to send an envoy to Ice Nation in a few days; that they might want something as well if Pike doesn’t realize his mistakes after a week and a half.”

            There was no doubt that Ice Nation would want Pike’s head for whatever happened in _Azgeda_ during four months. When the Woods Clan made a demand that they hand over Finn, Abby tried jumping through the hoops of fire to spare him from that fate, not realizing the ramifications of such.

            If Ice Nation wanted Pike and some members of Farm Station, there was no way they would avoid that. Though if Clarke agrees to give _Azgeda_ it’s justice and if information about Clarke’s true whereabouts is somehow revealed –

            “I don’t know how long this secret about my daughter’s whereabouts will be kept, Marcus,” Abby presupposed. “Whatever _Azgeda_ wants and what they do, my daughter will be lumped alongside them.”

            Lumped alongside them since Clarke was about to be one of the Ice Nation monarchs. She’d be literally seen as _Azgeda_ by those who don’t know any better.

            No matter what will happen, Clarke will always be one of them. Always her daughter.

 

* * *

 

            _“…and this morning, a handful of the Palace Guard were found assaulting an individual_ ,” Magnus finished after going on his long-winded explanation of things that happened recently. “Practically, they would have continued until he was dead if didn’t Echo stop them.”

            Roan sat back in the seat behind his desk. Trying his best not to appear and sound bored. This seemed like measly information compared to being informed of an execution of a convicted murderer set to take place this afternoon (the punishment being Death by Public since his victim was a civilian. Only crimes that hit home warranted death at the hands of the capital’s populace). He had sent Seiku to summon Costia a few minutes ago. That way he would offer her freedom after five years of virtual imprisonment. Regarding Magnus, it seemed he didn’t miss the fact that he seemed disappointed that Echo intervened in the first place.

            “ _Who was the victim?_ ” Roan asked him.

            “ _The last living parasite or Carl Emerson, as he referred to himself_ ,” Magnus answered. “ _Personally, I would have preferred it if Echo didn’t intervene but it was said that she did as she thought it would be best to leave him to your hands_.”

            Thank goodness for Echo’s common sense. “ _I’m glad that she did_ ,” Roan answered. “ _I want him to appear in front of the entire royal court for his crimes a day after the second and final day of the wedding celebrations_.”

            Wait until Clarke had a say in his fate. That was the plan and it seemed that Magnus didn’t miss that. “ _You want Wanheda to have a say in his fate?_ ” he inquired.

            “ _It is only best_ ,” Roan dictated. “ _She annihilated everyone in the Mountain and she should finish what she started. Not to mention that he should answer for his part for what happened in Mount Weather recently_.”

            “ _Are you afraid that your decision for marrying Wanheda and this marriage treaty will draw more critics?_ ” he asked.

            He sat back. Magnus had a point; people wouldn’t be fans of it. Even if Clarke provided them justice.

            “ _It might not be immediate but Clarke promised to uphold her end of the arrangement_ ,” he assured. “ _To assure justice for what that group did to members of Ice Nation_.”

            Three soft taps were heard on the door.

            “ _Come in_ ,” he encouraged and instead of Costia entering his office, it was Echo. Her displeased frown and balled fists giving everything away about why she was here.

            Echo voicing discontent about this plan regarding his eventual marriage to Clarke was the last thing he wanted. And what made her appearance interesting was that he was going to summon her after speaking with Costia.

            “ _Why are you very early_ ,” he stated. “ _I haven’t even summoned you yet, Echo_.”

            “ _I want to talk to you_ ,” she replied without a beat. “ _About a certain recent matter_.”

            He sighed as he slouched in his seat. As much as he wanted to avoid this conversation, perhaps it was best to let it happen and get it over with. Otherwise, Echo would be stewing and it was something that he couldn’t afford with people preparing his upcoming nuptials with Clarke.

            Roan glanced at Magnus and wordlessly gestured to the door. Without argument, the head advisor left the room; leaving him with Echo; the latter still maintaining her icy frown.

            “ _I understand your concern, Echo_ ,” he started, as he stood from his chair. “ _However, I’m doing what’s best for Ice Nation_.”

            “ _By marrying Wanheda and making her your queen?_ ” Echo demanded. She shook her head. “ _I will not accept that and I’m sure that there would be those that wouldn’t accept it_.”

            Echo wasn’t wrong there, given the outburst by one of his advisors. However –

            “ _If they do, they might think differently when we determine that parasite’s fate and I will give Wanheda the chance to dole out which punishment she sees fit_ ,” he loftily explained.

            “ _Waiting after the wedding?_ ” Echo demanded. “ _You can’t just let Wanheda mess with our affairs_.”

            “ _You do realize, that the Mountain Men went out of their way to kill Skaikru as well when they realized that the only valuable thing about them was their bone marrow_ ,” he pointed out, already fatigued by this conversation and where it was headed. “ _It’s only right for Wanheda to decide what happens with him. Besides, she will finish what she started_.”

            Echo’s nose crinkled in disgust. “ _This is your legacy?_ ” she hissed. “ _Marrying that Skaikru Bitch and binding with Skaikru? Who had done nothing but kill without provocation? Hunting on our lands? Stealing food from villages?_ ”

            “ _We killed forty-nine of their people without provocation as well_ ,” he pointed out, nauseated from the name that Echo assigned to Clarke. “ _There is no innocent and pure side in a war and you should know that. I would appreciate it if you would stop referring Clarke as a female dog_.”

            “ _She’s really got you wrapped around her finger, hasn’t she?_ ” Echo sneered. “ _You do realize that she’s only doing this for her benefit. Not for you and not for Azgeda. Marrying her and having her as queen will do us more harm than good_.”

            It was his mother that taught him and others that they should only trust _Azgeda_. For intentions of other clans might be questionable. However, his father taught him that there might be times where they might have to rely on other clans and possibly their enemies. For sometimes they might have knowledge that Azgeda might not have.

            “ _Are you jealous that I’m marrying someone other than you or is it because you distrust her?_ ” he asked Echo. Hopefully it wasn’t the former because he knew that Echo was better than that.

            “ _It’s about trust, Roan_ ,” she answered; looking scandalized as if the former wasn’t an option. “ _I just don’t trust her. How can you trust her?_ ”

            It would be unrealistic for Echo to be aware of the relationship he formed with Clarke in the past few months. That it would be realistic for Echo to suspect her of shady acts. Though, it would be best if he explained it.

            _Knock! Knock!_ Shit. Why now?

            “ _You are dismissed, Echo_ ,” he commanded. “ _Expect me to send for you sometime this evening before dinner_.”

            Echo clenched her fists; pressing her lips together in a thin line before nodding. Turning away as she bounded towards the door. Anger and annoyance might be considered a strange combination if he didn’t know any better.

            She opened the door and exited the room seconds before Seiku did; with Costia behind him. She didn’t change much in five years. It seemed that despite her roots, they were willing to brand her face.

            Her face which was etched with uncertainty and fear. He tilted his head in confusion. Freedom was what she wanted wasn’t it? However, he’s been gone for five years to even realize how her captivity affected her psyche.

            “ _I know why I’m here, sire_ ,” she breathed as she kneeled on one knee while Seiku closed the door behind him.

            And it seems that she guessed correctly why. It would be stupid to not realize that those days of sneaking her some food during her week-long imprisonment didn’t have an effect on how she saw his character.

            “ _You guessed correctly, Costia_ ,” he answered. “ _Stand_.”

            Costia rose up. Her eyes glancing at his. He didn’t even get a chance to address her first when she spoke. “ _You are revoking my captivity_ ,” she revealed; her voice trembling. “ _As much as I want to go home, I refuse the offer_.”

            Her desire and yet fear towards that possibility wasn’t hard to decode. _Trikru_ was among the clans that valued honor over everything else. But surely, she had family and friends that would love to see her alive. Lexa especially.

            “ _Bringing you back home would probably be like a godsend to your family_ ,” he pointed out. “ _You being alive all this time is what would matter to them. Seeing your face again might be even a dream come true for Lexa_.”

            “ _You don’t know my family_ ,” she argued. “ _Especially my father. What makes you think that he would take me back? Even if he saw me alive, I’d be virtually dead to him. He would just see some Azgeda warrior possessing the corpse of his slain daughter. Also, I’d rather have Lexa think that I’m dead then to see that I have adapted in this environment_.”

            “ _Costia…_ ” he protested.

            “ _You can’t make me go back to a place where they’ll only cast me out_ ,” she argued; her peach face blotching red. “ _They won’t see me as Trikru anymore. They will see me as one of you. That Azgeda tainted me with their influence. That I’m ruined_.”

            She turned her back towards him. Wiping her eyes dry from any tears before sniffling. Roan stood from his chair; thinking to touch her shoulder in comfort before drawing away his hand. He couldn’t just keep her here. That Costia should go home to where she belonged.

            Yet, there was a chance that she could be rejected from her family. That they would see her as _Azgeda_ despite the fact that she was taken against her will; that she adapted out of survival.

            Roan didn’t want to keep her here but he didn’t want to force her to go back home if she didn’t want to. Thinking about it, what he could do…

            “ _My mother placed you in the White Forest Patrol division of the Royal Guard, last I knew before I left five years ago_ ,” he observed.

            Costia nodded. Her back still turned towards him. “ _Yes, your majesty_ ,” she answered.

            “ _As you know, my mother is dead and I’m set to fill a second prerequisite of attaining the throne tomorrow_ ,” he revealed. “ _How would you feel about being the attendant to the new queen?_ ”

            Those words alone were enough for her to turn towards him. Her eyes wide. “ _What?_ ” she asked. Bewilderment in her tone.

            “ _It is protocol for the new queen to have a new attendant as well_ ,” he answered. “ _I could introduce her to you before lunch. Besides, it might be good for you find a different occupation where you’re not in the freezing cold in long hours_.”

            “ _The cold doesn’t quite bother me like it used to_ ,” Costia rasped. “ _I’m quite used to it now_.”

            “ _Still, patrolling the White Forest might get monotonous_ ,” he pointed out. “ _Members of the guard always rotate placement every five years after they reach adulthood. What do you say_?”

            Costia tugged her ear in thought as she paused. Like she was thinking about all of the idea of it further compared to other alternatives. Before any doubt about her reception crossed his mind, she answered, “ _Yes, my king. I will serve the new queen as her attendant_.”

            Even if the outcome wasn’t what he thought, at least this matter was off his plate. All he would have to do was deal with Echo.

            Something that he didn’t look forward to himself.

           

           

 

           

 

 

 


	21. Chapter Twenty One

_I never thought that I would see this many books in one place since Mount Weather_ , was one of Clarke’s first thoughts when she stepped foot into the palace library. Which stood two stories.

            If the Mountain Men knew about this wide array of books, they would have no reason to think that they held the last books on the planet. Then again, they saw the Grounders as savages who probably couldn’t read.

            Brushing her fingers against the book bindings, Clarke reckoned that these books were probably here before the bombs. Like this room became a library of the public once this building no longer functioned as a residence for prominent citizens but rather a historical monument before the bombs.

            Only to become a place of inhabitance once more for a royal family.

            Curiosity filled every facet of her brain as she carefully pulled a particular title from the nearest bookshelf. Clarke blew the dust from the cover; seeing the title _Beauty and the Beast_.

            Beauty and the Beast. The title alone invoking memory of a conversation between her and Roan a few months earlier. About which one of them would be beast and she would be beauty.

            It wasn’t the alcohol that was talking when she referred herself as the beast. She had done several wrathful deeds and atrocities since she landed on the ground.

            She killed so many people that if she were a Grounder warrior by birth, her back wouldn’t hold that much kill marks. Clarke practically was overrun as it was.

            “ _Contemplating over there_?” she heard a male voice ask from behind. One that she recognized earlier in the throne room when Roan did her introduction; the one that commented that her appearance complimented with her ability to command death.

            She veered around; seeing that boy with medium brown hair strutting towards her. Logically speaking, he must be Roan’s brother. Prince Aspen. The sibling with the reputation for sleeping around.

            “ _Well, it’s just that I never seen this many books in one place_ ,” she stated; placing the book under her arm as he stepped closer.

            “ _I guess they didn’t have many books in that floating Space Castle before descending_ ,” he replied. Placing his hand on the handle of a knife to posture.

            “ _We made due with what we had_ ,” she answered, wishing that he would move on. There wasn’t anything about him that registered warning bells but his close stance made her uncomfortable enough. Clarke prayed that he had the common sense not to make any advances on the girlfriend of his brother.

            That he wasn’t stupid enough to.

            He smiled as he offered his hand. “ _I apologize for not properly introducing myself_ ,” he divulged. “ _I am Aspen. Prince of Ice Nation_.”

            Without hesitation, she took his hand and shook it. Basically, so he wouldn’t know the discomfort he was practically giving her. “ _There is no need to introduce myself since your brother basically introduced me to the royal court_ ,” she said.

            Aspen opened his mouth –

            “ _Decided to keep her company, Aspen?_ ” Roan called as Clarke could hear two sets of footsteps echoing against the floor. Clarke went around Aspen to see Roan approach them; with a dark blonde haired girl trailing not too far from him.

            “ _Um, I came here with the intent of finding a particular book when I saw her browsing_ ,” Aspen answered awkwardly; though he was giving him eye contact as if not to be suspect.

            Roan, however, narrowed his eyes as he gave him a sidelong glance; like he was skeptical of his answer. He walked past his brother to approach her. “ _Decided to learn your way around here?_ ” he asked her.

            “ _I’m going to be here for a few months_ ,” she answered with a chuckle. “ _I think it’s going to take a few days to explore this place_.”

            “ _It took me a few years to memorize this entire place_ ,” he divulged; curling his lips into a smile.

            Roan turned to the girl standing behind him. “ _Part of the reason that I tracked you down was that there is someone that I want you to meet_ ,” he continued. He gestured his companion forward; a dark blonde and petite girl who could have been around her age. Her grey-green eyes and plump lips giving her the visage of a porcelain doll.

            Well, porcelain dolls didn’t have brands on their faces but that didn’t make her any less beautiful.

            The girl looked at her with uncertainty; like she didn’t know how to peg her. It was different then the fear and deity-like respect that Clarke was faced.

            “ _Here, she is commonly referred to as Eirwen_ ,” he continued, “ _though it would only be appropriate to introduce her by her real name_.”

            “ _Isn’t that rather – ?_ ” Aspen began to ask.

            Roan put his hand up to interrupt him; silencing his brother abruptly. “ _This is Costia_ ,” he introduced. “ _I’m certain that the name is familiar with you_.”

            Clarke had never met her prior to Lexa speaking of her over the funeral pyre of the eighteen massacre victims of TonDC and Finn, but the sheer knowledge that she was meeting her was enough to drain the blood from her face. As if she was seeing a ghost of a dead girl before her. Or a girl that was supposed to be dead.

            She swallowed as she offered her hand. “ _I’m Clarke_ ,” she introduced. “ _Though I’m not certain if introduction is in order since you probably heard a lot about me anyway_.”

            “ _I am not alien with the concept of Wanheda_ ,” Costia answered as she shook her hand. “ _In fact, it was one of the predominate topics in this clan. How I see it, things come full circle and… I wasn’t surprised that Nia wasn’t given the mercy she was granted five years ago_.”

            Clarke wasn’t oblivious to the fact that Costia made no mention of Lexa. Was it painful to think about her and saying her name? It might say as much given her pause before continuing her sentence.

            She swallowed, deciding which words were appropriate and make her seem not idealistic. “ _Something else will be full circle, too_ ,” Clarke assured. “ _Lexa thought she received your head five years ago. I can only imagine her glee when she sees you alive_.”

            Costia shook her head. “ _If only if it were that easy_ ,” she vocalized. “ _Trikru isn’t going to accept someone that has been here for five years_.”

            There was shame in her tone. As if years of captivity here made her feel ruined and tainted to return back home. Clarke wanted to tell her that she was held against her will. That she felt to adapt for her own survival.

            Though that was for another time.

            “ _I can’t force her to return back home if she doesn’t want to_ ,” Roan divulged. “ _It is customary for the new queen to have their own handmaid, and I offered Costia the job_.”

            Clarke didn’t know how to react to it moments after it was digested. Costia, the presumably deceased girlfriend of the Commander, as her servant? Though handmaid’s most likely doubled as body guards given Ontari’s defense of Nia when she smelled the poison.

            “ _Um, isn’t that rather awkward?_ ” Aspen asked. “ _After all, they are both romantically connected to the Commander_.”

            “ _There was nothing serious between us_ ,” Clarke reminded him. “ _Was there an attraction? Yes, but it didn’t go further than that_.”

            “ _Unless, you’d rather have Ontari serve her_ ,” Roan pointed out to him, “ _a decision that would be incredibly idiotic_.”

            Idiotic that even if Ontari gave no indication of committing assassination, there was a chance that she might go back on her word. That she might want to avenge Nia.

            “ _I wasn’t born yesterday, Roan_ ,” Aspen retorted as someone stepped into the library. “ _I’m not that much of an idiot_.”

            “ _Lunch is due to be served at any moment, your majesty_ ,” the newcomer announced promptly.

            Lunch. Clarke hadn’t really thought about food and registered hunger until that announcement. They had a light breakfast at the lodge before setting off for the capital. Now at the mention of lunch, it was like she could feel her stomach gnaw in hunger.

            “ _Finally_ ,” Aspen breathe before continuing louder. “ _I’m practically starving_.”

            “ _You are always starving_ ,” Costia grumbled before leaving the library without being dismissed. That didn’t seem to bother Roan from the looks of it.

            “ _Hungry?_ ” was Roan’s question to her.

            “ _Now I do since lunch is practically ready_ ,” she answered. A response that prompted a chuckle from Aspen. Though Roan appeared that it wasn’t something to be amused over.

            “ _It gives you an excuse to see our private dining hall_ ,” he premised as he placed her hand on her back before ushering her out of the library. “ _If it helps, I’ll make sure you don’t make a fool of yourself_.”

            It’s clear. Upper class decorum hasn’t died along with _Praimfaya_ when it comes to Grounder society. Ice Nation royalty to be specific.

 

* * *

 

            Raven turned the blue pill in her hand as she sat outside.

            City of Light. Raven scoffed. No such thing that involved a life with no pain can’t truly exist. Can it?

            It was a tempting offer. From losing Finn to having her leg drilled for bone marrow to Gina and forty-eight others in Mount Weather dying from that explosion, there was no doubt that pain was a constant of her life since landing. Pain was practically part of life.

            Life was going to have a shitsack element. First on the Ark and then on this radioactive death planet. Jaha had to be bluffing. No pill could possibly get rid of the pain in the world.

            And she was going to take the risk to call his bluff.

            Raven popped the pill in her mouth. The snow crunching under her boots as she stood up. Upon swallowing, the result was what she expected: nothing.

            She shook her head. Well, she couldn’t wait to tell Jaha that all this City of Light nonsense was –

            All the pain – physical and psychological – that happened in her lifetime evaporated from her brain. The pain was replaced with this warm and fuzzy sensation; which seemed to meld into her brain tissues.

            Raven felt…content. No, that wasn’t the word. Though happy would be an overstatement. Comfortable was the word she was looking for.

            In front of her, she saw a black haired woman wearing a red dress. Her fingers weaved together as she stood postured before her. Raven had the feeling that no one else could see this woman. That she should trust and listen to her.

            That ingesting the City of Light key was what unlocked her presence.

            “Let’s get to work, Raven,” said the woman; gazing at her as if she was processing every piece of information about her. It was like her appearance was rather a godsend, even.

            _We will_ , Raven thought.

 

* * *

 

            Clarke was taken to an adequate sized room; the banner with that confined sunrise next to the Azgeda symbol hanging behind one of the chairs at the end. There were six chairs in total and five might only be occupied, from how she saw it.

            “Find a seat,” Roan encouraged as servants silently entered the room with platters of food; the aroma of bear meat, potatoes, various vegetables, and bread filtered into the room.          

            If Clarke was certain, royal etiquette dictated that she might have to wait for the monarch to have a seat before she could. Yet, it didn’t prevent her from finding a seat next to the chair facing the door. Especially if he was going to sit there.

            Roan shifted towards that direction as Lagertha came in with Nymeria right behind her. The latter keeping her head down to avoid any eye contact.

            Clarke bit her lip, for she was most likely the reason behind her distressed demeanor. She could leave the dining and make things easier for this girl, though it might be rude to leave the dining room. She was after all among royal company.

            She swallowed as she pulled up her chair before sitting down; aware of Roan pushing her in before taking the seat at the end near her. The awkwardness palpable in the air, even if she knew one of them.

            Awkward enough to where when they were passing around food for their plates, she didn’t feel like starting a conversation. Though it could say the same for Roan and his siblings, for what would be there to talk about without feeling awkward and overwhelmed after being separated for five years?

            She silently cut up her bear meat when Lagertha spoke up, “ _Hasn’t the culture shock set in yet?_ ”

            Caught off guard by her question, Clarke nearly dropped her fork. “ _What?_ ” she asked.

            “ _Skaikru culture is most likely different than ours_ ,” she pointed out as she took a bite from her slab of bear meat. “ _Given that it’s your first time here, it’s interesting that you feel at ease_.”

            “ _I am getting the hang of it_ ,” Clarke stated as she maintained her grip on her fork. “ _I literally spent more time among one of you then any of my people on the ground_.”

            It wasn’t a lie. Ever since landing on the Earth, she had spent more time among Grounders after that first month on the ground. Well, she had most of her contact with Roan for three months but before that, she had spent most of that ill-fated alliance with the Grounders when they were going to go against Mount Weather.

            “ _You are not going to count the first years of your life up in that comfortable Space Castle?_ ” Lagertha asked of her. “ _Technically, you’ve spent most of your life on orbiting in space before landing on this crapsack death planet_.”

            Clarke released a nervous chuckle and from her peripheral vision, she could see Roan pressing his lips together in annoyance as he gazed at his sister. As if her interrogation of her was the last thing that he needed during lunch. “ _It wasn’t quite comfortable, I should say_ ,” Clarke admitted. “ _We did what we had to do to survive up there as you have down here. It was draconian to say the least_.”

            As if he didn’t want this interrogation to get ugly and have a confrontation erupt during lunch, Roan turned to his youngest sibling. Who was just pondering her food then eating it. “ _Are you hungry?_ ” he asked her. “ _You haven’t touched your food_.”

            Nymeria turned her gaze from her plate to her brother. As if she was actively trying to avoid Clarke’s gaze. In response, she later began stuffing potatoes into her mouth.

            “ _Don’t choke now_ ,” Lagertha chided, and even if she was serious, there was a shadow of concern on her stern features. Clarke knew that if she were to choke, two out of her three siblings might blame her.

            Clarke stayed silent through the entire lunch. Dwelling in the silence as she watched the servants walk back and forth between this room and another. Robotic they were. Not talking as they did their duties.

            As if they were afraid that they would do one thing out of line and face serious consequences for it.

            Even as she was quiet, she could still feel Aspen’s gaze on her. And Roan’s presence alone was the reason why she restrained herself from throttling him. Did his fancy really have to extend to her?

            She scrapped off the crumbs of her food from her plate before leaving the dining room in silence. Even with Roan’s presence, she decided that it was best not to linger for it was awkward, uncomfortable, and that she was contributing to the unease of a young member of the royal family.

 

* * *

 

            Roan watched as Clarke left his side at the dining table. Not saying a word as she exited the room. He drew in his breath. No doubt that she was uncomfortable as he was. Yet his discomfort could pale in comparison to his.

            He hadn’t been with his siblings with five years and they most likely changed to different people then what he knew. Most likely strangers to him as they were to Clarke.

            “ _What?_ ” Aspen asked and Roan turned his gaze away from the door to observe Lagertha glaring at Aspen. The former perplexed.

            “ _Do you have to ogle every girl that crosses your path, especially the one getting hitched with Roan tomorrow?_ ” Lagertha demanded as Nymeria quickly grabbed a biscuit from the center plate before leaving the table without a word. A stark contrast from the elation she felt upon seeing him. Though whenever something bothers her, Nymeria tended to close up like a clam for the rest of the day. That that particular aspect of her didn’t change.

            “ _She just looks good on the eyes, that is all_ ,” Aspen answered defensively.

            Lagertha scoffed. “ _If she had her way, she probably would send you to your grave just by glaring at you_.” She stood from her seat. “ _In fact, you are going to make her wish that she had that ability._ ”

            Clarke actually could if she did. If his brother’s gazes fatigued her to no end.

            “ _Don’t be a buzzkill, Lagertha_ ,” Aspen complained as she left the table.

            “ _When she castrates you for trying to make advances towards you, speak to me then_ ,” she retorted before bounding away from the table. “ _You’d have it coming if you tried anything_.”

            And that hasn’t changed either, it seems.

            As for his brother finding fancy with Clarke, well, he could test his brother. After all, he had never seen him for a few years, so testing him was the only logical thing to do.

            “ _Out of the many women around, you happen to set your eyes on the Wanheda_ ,” he stated. “ _When I’m set to marry her of all times. However, if you desire to bed her, that can easily be arranged. I’m certain that she wouldn’t mind_.”

            His brother narrows his eyes in confusion. “ _Are you her pimp?_ ” he asked incredulously. “ _Because that’s only what a pimp would do_.”

            “ _Do you want to sleep with her or not?_ ” he asked, not bothering to answering the question. Roan was only interested if his brother would take the bait. That he wasn’t stupid enough to dig his own grave to sate his desires. To see whether he could trust his brother around Clarke.

            “ _No, I’m not that stupid_ ,” Aspen answered. “ _You might turn around and kill me for it. Besides, I might end up dead from other causes if I sleep with her_.”

            _Funny, because I slept with her plenty of times and I am still standing_ , he thought with amusement. In response, Roan nodded as he stood from his chair. “ _It’s fortunate that I can trust you, Aspen_ ,” he replied. “ _Had it been anyone else, I might have been extra cautious_.”

            With those words, he left his brother in the dining room. He could find Nymeria. She was in either the library or in her room painting. Find her in either those places and assure her that Clarke would mean no harm to her.

            Speaking of Clarke, he could spy her at the other end of the corridor; looking out from one of the giant frosted windows. His feet echoed against the aged wood as he approached behind her.

            “Drifting in thought?” he asked her.

            “A pure understatement,” she answered, still looking out the window. “It was as if I was a fish out of water. No telling what tomorrow might bring.”

            He could emphasize with her. It was practically awkward sitting with his siblings, though dinner might be another story. Though with Clarke, she never had real history here unlike him.

            To _Azgeda_ , she was simply _Wanheda_ for now. One to admire, one to fear, and in some cases, one to despise due to her clan lineage. He on the other hand, was the crown prince. One expected to carry on the legacy of the one before him. Though he did not want to continue where his mother left off.

            “We will manage, like all leaders do,” he answered. “We just have to keep it in until we’re able to release it.”

            “Through consummation of our marriage?” she hinted.

            It was hard to keep down a chuckle from those words. “Perhaps,” he answered.

            They watched people passing around the courtyard. Considering that she was joining the royal family, it would be logical to show her the royal family crypt located in the underbelly of the palace. To bone up on intricate knowledge of the Cadogen bloodline. It was expected of someone marrying into the family to attain knowledge .

            That execution was due in two hours and they had some time.

            “If you’re planning to continue your tour around the castle, I might suggest taking the Royal Crypt into consideration,” he suggested. “It would be expected for you to know the details of the bloodline.”

            “Wouldn’t that be creepy though?” she asked him, ending her sentence with a chuckle.

            “Its broad daylight,” he quipped. “Come with me.”

            “Still, it might be creepy,” she suggested as she followed him.

 

* * *

 

            Perhaps it was the rebel within him that was propelling him to do this, but if Bellamy was going to do the right thing, it wasn’t going to be by Pike’s side. To be honest, he never thought he’d briefly agree with the new Chancellor.

            Maybe he was never meant to conform, for when he does it has disastrous consequences.

            When he met with Kane, the older man said this: “To be clear, I do understand what happened before I landed. I do understand that lives were lost on our side. However, that conflict was past. You might not think there is a difference between _Trikru_ and _Azgeda_ , but we must not take out our anger against the former if we suffered at the hands of the latter.”

            There was no way he would argue with him, especially with Lincoln telling him that these peacekeeping formations weren’t unusual. Though Bellamy wasn’t thinking clearly at the time. His brain was rattled from Gina’s death.

            “I understand that now,” Bellamy vocalized. “What do we do now that the Commander has enforced a trade embargo on this place?”

            “The condition is that if Pike sees reason before a week and a half, it will be lifted,” was the former Vice Chancellor’s answer.

            Bellamy scoffed. Even if presented with facts to the contrary, there always had to be an ulterior motive. He couldn’t blame Pike for his distrust of the Grounders, but that was the Ice Nation and Pike nearly signed their death warrant by kicking the wrong hornets’ nest. “I doubt it,” Bellamy answered. “He firmly believes that we’re doing the right thing.”

            “That’s the problem,” Kane pointed out. He hesitated, as if he was pondering to give him information. Then: “I want you to do something for me. You have infiltrated Mount Weather a few months ago during our conflict with the Mountain Men.”

            “Until I got caught towards the very end,” he answered, wondering what Kane was playing at before it clicked to him. “You want me to be the Trojan Horse.”

            “Pike seems to trust you,” Kane answered. “Providing him and his group with the rifles validated it, it seems. That he can count on you.”

            Go behind Pike’s back and give Kane valuable information? Seems like a doozy. However –

            “Pike might want me to do the same with you as well,” Bellamy pointed out.

             “If he does, give him some information,” Kane advised. “He’ll only be suspicious of you if you don’t.”

            “Right,” Bellamy answered. He wanted to ask about Clarke. To see how long she might be in Polis, but judging by the older man’s cautionary stance, it was like he almost didn’t trust him. Probably assumed that he might tell Pike.

            Whatever Clarke was up to, he’d never really put her in a dangerous situation. Yet, Bellamy never asked further questions. He told Kane that he keep him posted before leaving. Though the old man supplied him with a jacket with a bug inside of it.

            Not totally surprising at all.

            If Kane wasn’t going to give him information regarding Clarke, he might go to the former Chancellor. She might give him some information.

            Predictably, she was in medical bay. Checking over a patient with Jackson at her side. Of course. When she glanced at him, there was a sense of caution about her. He assumed she heard from Kane about him arming Pike. Maybe she sees him as a factor in Clarke not coming back.

            And that stung him.

            When Bellamy saw the opportunity, moments later, he asked Abby, “Any indication when Clarke might return from Polis?”

            Abby paused. As if debating what her answer will be. “As of yesterday, I don’t know,” she answered. “I honestly don’t.”

            There was something about Abby’s tone and her rigid stance that suggested that she was more than concerned. She never exhibited this when Clarke was in Polis last week. There was more. As if Clarke’s location had changed.

            He could prod her more but decided against it. For the time being. He simply nodded and walked away.

            If Clarke wasn’t in Polis, then where was she then? He had to get to the bottom of this.

 

* * *

 

            Whether it was the time of day or the fact that they were below ground level, Clarke’s teeth chattered as she and Roan descended the stairs from the ground floor of the palace. It would be a stretch if no goosebumps formed on her skin under her clothes.

            “The wonders of this climate,” Roan mused; placing his hand on her back as he steered her through the concrete corridor. “Bodies seldom decompose in this type of cold.”

            There was no need to explain. For Clarke was aware of how dead bodies would react to different climates. Yet, this location was ideal if one wanted to set up a family mausoleum in the underbelly of their residence. For temperature makes the difference when it came to corpse preservation.

            Clarke struggled not to sneeze for the mustiness of the basement was entering her sinuses. Probably dust collecting on whatever keepsakes were stored. There were a few doors that they passed; symbols painted above the doorframes. Maybe each monarch or generation had a room dedicated to them.

            Yet, it was like Roan had a certain one in mind. “Logical if we start at the Founding Kings’ Crypt,” he explained. “It contains history of the origins of the clan.”

            The room of destination had a pair of double doors leading to it. The triangular symbol of a rising sun crudely carved onto it. Guards were stationed at each side. As if they were afraid that someone might come and steal sacred objects.

            Roan nodded towards the guards and as if a silent command was given, one of them lifted the latch. Unlocking the doors and pushing one open.

            “Go first,” Roan encouraged to her. Clarke grasped her arms with her hands. Taking a deep breath as she entered the crypt. Her breath visible before her.

            The center of the room displayed an intricately carved wooden casket. Locked shut so that people probably won’t dare open it. Though Clarke didn’t think she would be interested in seeing a corpse of a dead monarch.

            A black fur pelt lay under the pedestal supporting the casket. Items and trinkets sat on displays around the room and on the wall were intricate drawings. All featuring the same man in scenes of battle, conquest, and times with his family. More intricate then the cave drawings from books she had read. More detailed then the drawings on the walls of the Temple under Polis.

            As if someone tried to take extra care in trying to execute the scenes with perfection and justice. Among the casket, the centerpiece of this room was a banner with the _Azgeda_ sigil and that triangular symbol. The latter symbol most likely recurring theme that she would encounter.

            Not until she spotted an aged book sitting on a podium next to the casket. Leather bound and possibly a thousand pages. Steering herself closer to it, it was embossed in gold with that symbol of the rising sun with the letters under it **WILLIAM E. CADOGAN.**

            “My fifth great-grandfather’s journal is considered a sacred artifact of history,” Roan explained as she drew close enough that she could touch it. “It’s forbidden to remove it from this room for a prolonged period of time. If one does, they have to return it here within the same day.”

            Carefully, Clarke lifted the cover; greeted by the words Bill Cadogan, April 2047 on the upper left hand of the first page. Then in big letters:

_I bestow this journal to all future members of our kingdom and the inhabitants of this territory. For they should use it to understand how we got here and the tumultuous journey we took to get to this moment._

_William, King of Ice Nation. 12/25/2112_

            Christmas day, sixty years after the bombs rained down on the planet. Clarke knew she didn’t have all day to read it. She basically skimmed through it, eyes widening to see that the entries go far as Christmas Eve of 2112.

            “This journal dates from April 2047 to Christmas 2112,” she murmured.

            “He passed the day after Christmas, it was said,” Roan replied. “Was the only monarch that died a natural death it was said.”

            What happened to the ones after him? Succumbed to illness and die prematurely? Assassinated by poison or other means? Killed in battle like Roan’s father? Or hubris and cowardice resulting in being impaled to a chair like Roan’s bitch of a mother? There were many possibilities since human society on this planet turned back the clock to the Dark Ages.

            “And I suppose that the illustrations on the wall detail his exploits?” she asked, turning to the images on the wall.

            “His deeds that he is famous for, yes,” he answered. Looking around the walls. “Each resting room dedicated to his descendants has illustrations of their deeds. My mother will be the only one without.”

            He snorted. “My people will call it a dishonor,” he continued. “That a queen like her deserved her own resting room. They are entitled to their opinion. Personally, I can care less.”

            _For what queen that treats her eldest son like an expendable pawn and rules the territory with cruelty deserves to be honored?_ Clarke continued mentally for him, for she knew him well enough that he might think that. She was a war criminal, as far as Clarke was concerned.

            They left King William’s Resting Room and briefly visited others. His descendants marked with that image of the rising sun, she noticed. When they reached the door labeled _Bendigeidfran, 7 th King of Ice Nation_, Roan paused and Clarke could see him swallow hard.

            This has to be his father’s resting place. That would explain his reaction.

            Clarke touched his shoulder in support. He took a deep breath before pushing the doors open. While the room wasn’t as extravagant as that of the first king, the drawings on the wall didn’t fail in quality. Not to mention that someone maintained this room with care.

            “I would come in here before my banishment,” he uttered. “To talk to my father’s memory to give me a measure of sanity. I talked to his mere memory right before I left too.” Roan drew a long sigh. Not before removing his dagger from his sheath. “He gave this to me before he passed. That I can channel his strength with this in times of need. The only thing that I possess of him that wasn’t brought down here.”

            Clarke instinctively brushed the band of her father’s wristwatch. That she can relate to, as her father gave her his watch before being executed. How they never took it away from her to be redistributed and how she fought members of the guard to keep it on her wrist when they tried to force it off her. She could relate all too well.

            “On the day I and others were sent down, the guard tried prying off my father’s watch to replace it with a wristband that tracked my vitals,” Clarke stated. “I wouldn’t let them. I wanted to keep the last thing that remained of my father.”

            “Goes to show how much he meant to you,” Roan surmised. Turning towards her. “Though even if we have no physical reminder of them, memories of those that we love will remain with us.”

            Physical reminders helped but she couldn’t deny that he probably had a point.

            They didn’t stay down in the catacombs of the Royal Family Crypt for long, for minutes later, Clarke was assembled in a cloak and overcoat of furs. As was Roan, as they traveled to what she presumed was the city square.

            Even if her identity would be disclosed, Clarke shielded her face with the hood of her cloak as she exited the carriage after him. Keeping him in a vice grip as she followed Roan to a curtained platform. The reason wasn’t a secret:

            Someone was to be executed and they would be the audience overseeing it. A man had committed a grievous act of injustice it was said. That the price he had to pay was Death by Public.

            Clarke was aware of the Trikrus’ Death by a Thousand Cuts punishment that they reserved for the worst of the worst. She was aware of the gruesome fate that awaited Finn for his slaughter of eighteen innocent people. As she stood behind Roan and saw a teeming crowd around a barricade – a crowd that appeared on boiling point – she assumed that whatever they will bear witness too would not be pleasant.

            What better were her own people anyway? Though she heard condemnation from _Trikru_ that _Azgeda_ was exceptionally brutal.

            Magnus stood before the crowd and placed his hands towards the crowd. As to quiet them down.

            “ _It is a shame that many of us have to be here on the day Roan, eldest son of Nia and Bendigeidfran, returned to us as our king_ ,” Magnus began. Cordially yet with a element of somberness in his tone. “ _However, in the name of duty and justice, that we have to bear witness to justice being doled out_.”

            Two masked Azgeda guards assemble the platform with a man beaten so badly that it reminded Clarke of those pictures featuring automobile accident victims. It didn’t help matters any that Clarke could taste the vitriol and fury in the air.

            Roan, on the other hand, appeared rather neutral.

            “ _As you know, last night, this man was convicted of murder_ ,” Magnus described. “ _He killed a man who had never set foot on a battlefield in his life. A good man who made a living by putting meat on your tables_.”

            Mutters and shouts ripple through the crowd. The early indication of a angry mob.

“ _And how does he repay him_?” Magnus continued. As if pleased that his words stirred outrage. “ _He slits his throat and leaves him in his shop to die. Leaving his corpse for his wife and child to find_.”

Hot anger and pure rage was wafting through the air. So strong that Clarke could smell it and hear it from the angered shouts originating from the crowd. Clarke understood that she saw something like this before but not as if it happened. More like if was from a work of fiction.

When she saw people being permitted through the barricade and the man being chained to the ground, the populace circulating him like he was a piece of meat, did she remember. It was from one of those shows that she watched from the Ark. Depicting subjugated women in red dresses and white wings over their bonnets. One of the scenes depicting the women in red beating a man to death. Yet she forgot the name of the show.

She had only seen two episodes before losing interest.

Someone blew the horn and it only took seconds for the first person to land a blow. With many more to follow. People shouting and screaming in pure rage accompanied by the sickening blows and crunching noises coming from the source.

Where they were beating him. Pulling out pieces of his scalp. Lodging kicks and punches to him in places that Clarke would know that it would cause agony. Beating him to the point of certain death and Clarke knew that it was the intention.

Death by Public. Execution at the hands of the capital’s populace, who were for certain containing pent up rage within them from Nia’s tyranny. Perhaps that’s what the intention: use this sort of execution as a means to have the public blow steam against a perpetrator of a crime rather than the government.

As if this was their means of avoiding a coup.

When it was all done and over, the _Azgeda_ guards draped the mangled corpse of the deceased with a sheet. The crowd dispersing as Clarke followed Roan into the Royal Coach to return back to the palace.

“Up in the Ark, people were floated for crimes no matter the severity,” Clarke explained. “I witnessed Lexa condemning her bodyguard to Death By A Thousand Cuts.”  She shook her head, though not in condemnation for what happened back there.

That was to be expected. Ice Nation wasn’t going to be all ice cream and unicorns just because she was in love with one of their number. They were considered the most brutal of the thirteen clans. The most volatile and unpredictable.

Clarke was shaking her head because even if they tried, humans would end up finding ways to kill and harm each other. Even if it was for understandable reasons. Her people were no better than the Grounders. And vice versa.

            As if he knew what she was thinking, Roan pitched in, “We have been violent since the dawn of time. Some think that it’s a wonder why the Earth never retaliated in response.”

            Maybe it is.    


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

            Mere hours before dinner, he had sent for Echo. Roan didn’t want to dread his next conversation with her, but their last conversation was unpleasant to say the least. It was apparent that Echo became emboldened in her loyalty to the clan.

            Not that it was bad. Loyalty and dedication to one’s own clan was a noble trait. Unfortunately, that loyalty was strongly towards his mother. She believed what his mother believed in. Power and strength without a sense of honor.

            _Azgeda_ was brutal, life will be brutal. Roan knew that. However, executing brutality on a third party that didn’t have any involvement in a conflict lacked honor. His mother’s beef was with Lexa and her Coalition, there was no need to kill _Skaikru_ just to destabilize the Commander.

            Echo strode into his office after Seiku. Her expression stoic as she stood rigid. Yet inside that meant that she could be fuming.

            “ _Echo, care to explain your participation in my mother’s act of sabotage against the Commander?_ ” he asked of her.

            “ _That wasn’t sabotage_ ,” Echo defended without a pause. “ _It was merely a test of our strength against our enemies. To show the Commander that we were infallible_.”

            “ _And you achieved it by killing people that had nothing to do with the conflict?_ ” he demanded.

            “ _I made sure that a handful were out of the way_ ,” she argued. “ _And, if you should know, Skaikru became our enemies the moment they landed here. You weren’t here when they killed people warrior and civilian alike, stealing from village food stores, and hunting without authorization_.”

            “ _I’m aware of that, Echo_ ,” he snapped. Irate that she was talking to him as if he didn’t know any better. Yet, there were still things to comb through and someone thought to write an account of the landing and send it here. “ _However, don’t act like we’re in the innocent party. According to a witness around the landing site, she witnessed members of the Royal Guard from an outpost slaughter children moments after landing_.”

            They were probably amazed by the sight of the snow, since they would only see it in pictures. The idea of his people killing children didn’t surprise him, but it curdled his stomach none the less. It didn’t help that the _Azgeda_ war general, Thade, had a boner for launching attacks against villages with a predominant civilian population.

            Her eyes slightly widened, as if such information was new. “ _Then their elders should pay for their negligence_ ,” Echo said. “ _Any rational adult knows not to have their child roam new territory_.”

            “ _True_ ,” he replied. “ _However, they did not know that where they landed was occupied. They most likely assumed it was no man’s land simply because this region of our territory is nearly akin to a tundra_.”

            The farther up north, the more brutally cold and insurvivable it is, it’s thought to be. There is a reason that his fifth great-grandfather stopped his conquest up north. It was colder the farther they went up north and he couldn’t take the risk to lose people from brutal cold.

            “ _They have adapted in space, so they should know that people can adapt to harsh conditions_ ,” Echo argued. “ _I don’t understand your reasoning in marrying one of them. And uniting with them to a boot_.”

            “ _As my father would say, there are times where you have to be civil and work with the enemy_ ,” Roan explained. “ _Also, Skaikru has become part of the Commander’s Coalition. Since Azgeda is a part of the Coalition, attacking Skaikru would warrant vengeance from the Commander’s hand and it would be a detriment to our goals_.”

            “ _Your father…”_ she paused, as if thinking what words to say before continuing, _“…he meant well but it wasn’t with the same effect as your mother. I’m not saying that he’s weak_.”

            “ _You avoided saying that he was_ ,” Roan pointed out.

            “ _If you brought me here to punish me for my part in what happened with the Mountain, do it_ ,” Echo dared him. “ _Revoke me from the Guard. Gouge my right eye out and banish me. You’re the king now, so do it_.”

            Echo’s accusation stung him. He could strip her of her duties. Have someone gouge out her right eye and banish her. A punishment prescribed to high level traitors. However, he can’t, as the sort would never help. “ _No_ ,” he answered. “ _There is no need. I admonish you for your part in Mount Weather’s destruction and I will forbid you from carrying out something of the similar sort again. What I want is assurance of your loyalty to Azgeda. That you will not execute deeds in a similar nature, therefore not breaching my trust_.

            “ _It may seem strange to you, but I have every intention of making you the new head of the Royal Guard, starting today_ ,” he continued.

            Her brown eyes widened. Like she wasn’t comprehending what was just said. “ _Wait, you’re promoting me?_ ” she asked.

            “ _Yes, and I want your loyalty throughout my reign_ ,” Roan answered. “ _You were loyal to my mother and I know that you can give me the same courtesy_.”

            Helmut didn’t pose too much of a problem, though he’d rather much have Echo heading the Royal Guard. It was a detriment that she was infallibly loyal to his mother but on the plus side, it meant that she would be loyal to him by extension. If one wasn’t loyal to the family of the monarchy, it would be betraying the monarch in turn.

            “ _Yes, my king_ ,” Echo said, like she was aghast that her loyalty to him would be in question. “ _I would never do anything to dishonor you_.”

            “ _Hopefully_ ,” he said, remembering her hatred towards Clarke. Who was set to be queen of _Azgeda_ starting tomorrow. Speaking of which. “ _Echo, I want you to do me a favor. Tomorrow is the beginning of the festivities marking the marriage between Clarke and me. You are to regard her as you would me. Treat her with the same respect as you would me. I may be king and yes, she was not born here as I, however, that would not diminish her power as queen_.”

            “ _Sire –_ ”

            “ _And whatever personal beef that you hold against her for whatever reason should be set aside_ ,” he interrupted her, raising his voice slightly. “ _You will respect and obey your king, and disrespecting and disobeying Clarke will be disrespecting and disobeying me. Giving her harm of any sort will give me harm. Showing her disloyalty to her would be showing disloyalty to me. I hope I make myself clear, Echo_.”

            It pained him to take on this authoritarian stance, given Echo’s wince. It was like a knife imbedding in his stomach and turning it. However, he needed to display authority as part of being king. To show that he was in control and that he deserved the respect and loyalty she gave his mother.

            His own father said that it would be natural for him to feel this fate. “Even the fair among us must display dominance to our subjects,” he would say. “Naturally, it would be painful to display dominance to our friends, but that’s how it’s supposed to feel. If you don’t feel such pain, then that means something must be wrong with you.”

            It was hard to see a look of betrayal in her eyes as well. Yet she nodded and answered, “ _Yes, I understand your word_.”

            “ _Good_ ,” he answered, “ _and it will be your job to make sure that the others understand as well. I will not tolerate insubordination due to whatever bias they hold_.”

 

* * *

 

            “ _I have to patrol the outer perimeter of the capital tomorrow night_ ,” Freya could be heard stressing a table away in the tavern. “ _You know full well what my supervisor would feel about me skipping my shift_.”

            “ _He shouldn’t fuss if he knows that I’ll be holding you up_ ,” Prince Aspen drawled huskily. Gripping his belt with his fingers as he straightened his spine.

            Echo rolled her eyes as Costia scoffed beside her. “ _Men_ ,” said the latter as she picked up her cup of ale. “ _It doesn’t help that I’m attracted to men as well, yet not by much_.”

            Echo watched her as she drank her ale. Costia was given the chance to leave by Roan, she said hours earlier. To return back to _Trigeda_. Instead, she refused. Taking the position of the new Queen’s Handmaiden when Roan offered it to her.

            Queen.

            Echo couldn’t help but scoff. Roan meant well with his plan to unite with _Skaikru_ but this wasn’t the way to go. He was risking everything by bringing in _Wanheda_ – who has never born to their customs – and having her as their queen. _Wanheda_ had him wrapped around her little finger, which sickened Echo.

            Enough to make her intestines curdle. It didn’t help any that Costia was willing to serve under her.

            “ _You didn’t have to_ _take up on his offer, you know_ ,” Echo pointed out as Costia laid down her cup.

            “ _It was better than going back_ ,” Costia said before shuddering.  “ _They will never accept me back there, Echo. For all they would know, I’m tainted in their eyes_.”

            Echo could understand what Costia meant. It was all too common for warriors to feel shame accompanied by captivity. Many would rather die than be held captive by the enemy before being set free. Echo remembered when she second guessed her decision to return home from the Mountain after being freed, even if her freedom meant that she would return to Costia’s bed at night. She wasn’t willing to face Nia’s consternation.

            Yet she returned home for Roan’s sake. For he would have wanted her to return home.

            How Roan’s current decision grieved her to no end. Why not just kill _Wanheda_ and get her power that way? _Klark kom Skaikru_ wouldn’t become a problem for them later on if she were dead and buried.

            Echo unwillingly found herself turning back her gaze to Aspen. His flirty grin replaced with caution and unease. Prompting her to see the source.

            And there it was. Cenwulf, a member of the advising council, speaking with one of the assassins. Their faces close together. Echo could only imagine what it was but interfering would do no good.

            At least _Wanheda’s_ blood wouldn’t be on her hands.

            “ _Who got on the wrong side of Cenwulf for him to speak with a assassin_?” Costia speculated.

            “ _You would know if you were in the throne room this morning_ ,” Echo reminded her.

            Cenwulf didn’t stay long. He quietly left the tavern and when the assassin he spoke to left a full hour later, Aspen waited ten minutes before leaving as well.

            If there was one thing that Echo knew, it was best not to interfere when a member of the royal family was protecting the interests of a sitting monarch. And that’s what Aspen was doing.

            Someone was going to die tonight.

 

* * *

 

            Clarke joined Roan and his siblings for a dinner of lamb, assorted vegetables, and potatoes. The servants silently standing by and coming forward when called.

            Only that Nymeria didn’t join the table with complaint of a headache and Aspen didn’t sit with them until halfway through dinner. The proud glint in his eyes and his smirk unsettling Clarke. As if he had just settled a score with someone.

            “ _Why now?_ ” Roan demanded irritably of his brother as he sat down. “ _It shouldn’t surprise me if you were trying to flirt your way around the tavern_.”

            Aspen shrugged as he served himself. “ _Maybe_ ,” he answered. “ _Maybe not_.”

            Lagertha rolled her eyes and muttered something unintelligible under her breath before sipping from her cup. Personally, Clarke didn’t want to know and neither Roan it seemed, for he never prodded his brother.

            Minutes later, Clarke accompanied Roan to their bedchambers. Which was toasty warm compared to when she first arrived here. There was the appearance of a chest which probably contained her new clothes and Clarke resisted the temptation of peeking in. For she probably wasn’t due to see them when the matrimonial ceremonies were past.

            Roan slipped out of the chambers for a few as Clarke got prepared for bed. After having slipped into the chemise, she pulled back the furs and blankets before getting into the bed. The mattress was soft like a cloud. Comfortable that it would induce deep slumber.

            “She would complain of stomach pains if something disturbed her,” Roan divulged to her as he came back. “Now it’s like she gets headaches. That concerns me.”

            As if Clarke didn’t feel anymore guilty. Hopefully she could prove to young Nymeria that she posed no harm. Yet the logical part of her brain reminded her that things will turn for the better.

            “It’s only been a day,” Clarke tried to assure him. “She’ll come around soon.”

            “Hopefully,” he interjected. It took a few minutes for him to join her in bed. She guessed that he was trying to process sleeping in a bed that he never slept in for five years. Roan wrapped his arm around her waist and she clasped his arm with her hand.

            Closing her eyes and thinking what awaited her tomorrow.

            Weddings on the Ark were no doubt a simple affair. The bride would wear a dress that was worn by many before her, vows were exchanged before the residents of the groom’s Ark station followed by a simple dinner. Sometimes with a one serving for all cake if people were able to pitch in sugar rations.

            There was no doubt that Azgeda wedding ceremonies would be drastically different. Especially one involving a King. However, her mind was more focused on the fact that she will have hundreds if not thousands of eyes of eyes on her tomorrow.

            The Great _Wanheda_ , _Klark kom Skaikru_ , the Great Mountain Slayer, new _Haiplana_ of _Azgeda_. Clarke has become a symbol to them. They wouldn’t believe that she was just a girl, though the same could have been said the same for Lexa.

            Drifting further into sleep, her mind replayed the image of that accused murderer being beaten to death by his peers. The image of his bloody and mangled corpse before he was covered with a blanket.       Though it sometimes merged with the image of her father being floated, Finn’s corpse against the pole he was tied to after she mercy killed him, and Lexa plunging the sword into her bodyguard after betraying her.

            Just a jumbled mess of the violence that she had experienced through the years and even if she tried to direct her mind to something else, it was difficult.

            Clarke and Roan both awoke at the crack of dawn. Their breakfast served silently served by servants. There was something silent and robotic about them that worried her. As if they were afraid to step out of line. Slaves? Serfs? Mere servants? Or a possibility of all three?

            She opened her mouth –

            _Knock! Knock! Knock!_

            Clarke nearly dropped her toast as Roan cursed under his breath. “ _Enter_ ,” he encouraged irritability.

            The doors swung open and Echo strode in with two other guards. Clarke was dimly aware of the fact that Roan replaced the original Head Guardsman with Echo. Probably to take no risks.

            “ _I apologize to interrupt breakfast before you two prepare for your nuptials, however something urgent has come up_ ,” Echo stated, not hiding her disdain at the scene before her. “ _Cenwulf is dead_.”

            The advisor that displayed his disapproval regarding her being queen. Dead. If Clarke didn’t know any better, she wouldn’t think that his death was in correlation with his outburst. A new set of dread set in. A new fear that was only accentuated by her nervousness of what this day will bring.

            Roan widened his eyes. “ _Dead?_ ” he demanded. “ _You must be mistaken. He certainly wasn’t a target for assassination. Nor was he in the age and poor health to die suddenly_.”

            Echo answered, “ _It is beyond our comprehension and understanding as well, your majesty. You could see for yourself, of course_.”

            Roan muttered to himself as he arose from his chair. Turning to her, he said, “ _I apologize, though I should be seeing you in a few hours_.”

            That meant that he would be getting ready for the wedding after investigating this mysterious death. Part of Clarke desired to go with him but the back of her mind suggested that it was best to stay. She clutched his hand as they kissed. Not keeping her eyes off him as he walked away.

            Echo bestowed to her a piercing glare before following Roan out of the room. As if she was an unwanted guest intruding on sacred ground.

            Clarke was left alone. Eating the remains of her breakfast. In spite of her stomach feeling numb from apprehension.

 

* * *

 

            The wing containing the quarters of the advisors was above the wing of the royal family from Roan’s memory. Even if he followed the guards to his destination.

            Yet, even if he steeled himself, that didn’t stop Roan from widening his eyes at the sight after stepping into Cenwulf’s chambers. The latter sprawled out on the floor on his side. His lifeless eyes open in a permanent state of shock.

            Roan restrained himself from chuckling at the irony of it. One of the advisor’s that protested Clarke as queen ended up dead in mysterious circumstances.

            “ _One of the servants found him like this this morning_ ,” Seiku revealed. “ _We wager that he must have been dead since last night_.”

            “ _I don’t doubt it_ ,” Roan said, still looking at Cenwulf’s corpse. If it was murder, the perpetrator was clever at hiding his trail. Narrowing it down to a few people. “ _Dispose of the body. There shall be a replacement after the wedding_.”

            He didn’t have the time to deal with this now.

            Two of the guards with Echo removed the corpse from the room. Yet Echo stayed behind. “ _Roan, late last night, an assassin was found dead_ ,” she revealed. “ _Ritualistic suicide, or so it seemed. The reason why I’m bringing this to your attention was that I and Eirwen, I mean Costia, saw him speaking with Cenwulf last night hours before_.”

            Trying to hire someone to assassinate Clarke? That would make sense after his explosive reaction to his decision. Even if the two guilty parties were dead, that didn’t stop his white hot rage from boiling within him. If anyone thought to hurt Clarke, he’d wring their necks.

            “ _Did anyone else see him with that assassin?_ ” he asked her. Trying to keep his tone in check despite the anger spilling out.

            “ _Aspen was there as well_ ,” Echo answered. “ _He followed the assassin out the tavern minutes later._ ”

            If his brother killed Cenwulf and that assassin, that would explain his tardiness for dinner. He couldn’t find himself to be surprised, for Aspen was loyal to their mother. Yet, it would have only meant that his brother was protecting the interests of the sitting monarch.

            He would keep this between Echo, himself, and his brother. After all, one or two deaths instead of thousands was a better of the two evils.

            “ _You may go_ ,” he softly ordered.

            Echo bowed and walked away from the room. Stepping from the room moments, Roan locked eyes with Aspen. Who was standing at the end of the hallway.

            _We’re going to keep this between ourselves_ , he thought to himself as he looked at his brother feet away. As if he understood, Aspen turned the other direction and disappeared.

            Aspen was loyal to his family, he had to give him that.

 

* * *

 

            “I’m worried about Raven,” Wells confided to Bellamy over breakfast. She was Raven and she wasn’t. Raven had her brains but her newfound content seemed…eerie. Like it wasn’t natural happiness.

            Almost like she was drugged. As if chemicals were messing up a vital part of her brain.

            Even odder was that she was hanging around his father after she denounced his “City of Light” nonsense. As if it never happened. Almost like he had gotten into her head.

            “She smiled at me a few hours ago and it didn’t seem right to me,” Bellamy shared as he moved his fork around his eggs. “As if she was high on something.”

            No kidding. Wells was no doctor but he had watched enough videos to know the symptoms of drug use. Depending on the drug.

            Raven aside, Bellamy seemed to be on edge. His lack of sleep was evident with the bags under his eyes. If the massacre was the only thing that was bothering him, he was wrong.

            “It looks like you had no sleep last night,” Wells observed as he watched Raven approach Jackson. Her out of place pleasant demeanor extremely unsettling.

            “Is it obvious?” Bellamy demanded. “I helped massacre an army that was sent to protect us.”

            “It’s not just that, Bellamy,” Wells pointed out. “You don’t think I know you enough that more than one thing is bothering you?”

            Bellamy sighed. “It’s just that…” He swallowed. “Clarke was supposed to come back after the resolution of the conflict with Ice Nation. It’s resolved and she’s still isn’t home. Clarke’s mother said she’s still in Polis on diplomacy.”

            “Most likely she’s staying away from this mess that Pike created,” Wells answered. “I can’t say that I blame her.”

            Yet his gut urged him otherwise. That it wouldn’t be out of place for Clarke to lie about her location. Especially if it was one to draw ire with everyone around her. Abby seemed more on edge then usually. It could be from Pike’s idiocy but it could be also combined with an urgent concern about Clarke.

            “I asked Doctor Griffin,” Bellamy replied. “She was concerned during the week when Clarke was in Polis but it was as if something about Clarke’s whereabouts were more concerning. Clarke is not in Polis, Wells. If I know where she is, I can plan my next move from there.”

            When wasn’t Bellamy planning something reckless when it came to the people he cared about? This was a part of who Bellamy was ever since they landed on the Earth.

            “Does this require breaking and entering?” Wells asked. “I have done more than my share back in Mount Weather.”

            “We’re going to have to,” Bellamy answered.

            Why wasn’t he surprised? Bellamy was always a rebel. Defying authority when it came to the interest of his friends. Though rebellion was what kept him and his peers alive at Mount Weather.

 

* * *

 

            Clarke soaked in the warm bath water as an attendant silently poured in warm water from a bucket. The heat making up for the climate outside, even if the bathroom was equipped with a fireplace.

            It was no different than being prepped for that summit initiating her clan into the Coalition. Yet, it was only dozens of eyes that will be on her. Here it will be hundreds if not thousands. An ambassador was different then a queen, for the latter holds more power.

            As she left the stone bathtub, Clarke wrapped herself in the robe that was lying on a nearby chair for her. Her feet touching the fur rug.       

            Even if Clarke craved for a few minutes of privacy, the attendants didn’t even give her that. For almost immediately, she was ushered to a chair. One of the attendants pushing her down by the shoulders onto the cushion.

            Footsteps echoed against the floor as the attendant began pulling her hair back.

            Lagertha.

            Clarke was certain that brides on the Ark were granted more privacy then this. Being that she was of the sky herself, she felt like some freak show that people couldn’t wait to gawk at.

            “ _Couldn’t wait until the ceremony?_ ” Clarke asked of her, as Lagertha’s companionship was the last thing that she wanted. “ _The great Wanheda isn’t flattering at the moment_.”

            “ _I was going to, but that would be cruel_ ,” Lagertha answered as she strode forward. “ _Cruel as in I couldn’t afford to have you look like a fool in a few hours_.”

            She heard a stool being dragged alongside the floor before its occupant sat down. If someone wasn’t combing her hair, she’d turn towards her visitor.

            “ _Now, how was that wedding ceremony done in that Space Castle of yours?_ ” Lagertha asked.

            “ _You’re curious to know?_ ”

            “ _It would be a lie if I wasn’t_.”

            “ _Um, there was nothing extravagant about them_ ,” Clarke answered. “ _The father would walk the bride to the aisle, hand her over to the groom, and the bride and groom would exchange vows before a small group of people_.”

            Lagertha let out what was a mixture of a scoff and choking. “ _Two centuries in that metal confine and you guys still carry on that sexist wedding shtick?_ ” she demanded with disgust. “ _At least our clan has evolved from that mess_.”

            “ _It’s traditional_ ,” Clarke argued.

            “ _It’s outdated_ ,” Lagertha persisted. “ _Only one clan of the entire Coalition kept that mess. Now, your clan would make it two. Here, the bride and groom meet each other down the aisle_.”

            Meet each other down the aisle. Not too many weddings before the apocalypse did that, for what she heard.

            “ _Meet each other down the aisle_ ,” she repeated.

            “ _Then when they meet, they join hands and bow for a minute before the binding ritual begins_ ,” Lagertha explained. “ _It signifies that the couple is on equal grounds. The whole father giving the daughter away to the husband reeks of inequality_.”

            “ _If you see it that way, it’s your prerogative_ ,” Clarke replies.

            “ _I’m not the only one that believes that, so don’t let that escape you_ ,” she retorts. “ _Now, don’t be leery when you’re handed the knife. The blood oath is a sacred practice here_.”

            “ _So, we cut our hands or we cut each other’s hands?_ ” Clarke asked. “ _Roan told me about the blood oath_.”

            “ _The latter_ ,” she answers, “ _oh, and you can cleanse your hands afterwards. I figure that Skaikru sees cleanliness as sacred just like us_.”

            Clarke let out something between a snort and a chuckle. Lagertha curled her lips in an amused smirk. Whether it was due to her reaction or if it was meant to be humorous, Clarke couldn’t tell. Lagertha was hard to figure out.

            The attendants braided her hair down her right shoulder before a third one entered the room with a white dress. It was elegant yet simple. White silk with a golden cord forming an empire waist. Clarke remembered reading that in Viking weddings, the emphasis was directed at the bride’s hair then her body. As if they wanted attention on the woman’s head.

            Which made all the more sense when they adorned pieces of gold in the braid.

            When Clarke was in the dress, she might as well have been transported to another era. As if she was born centuries ago. A perfect feeling for someone detached from her people.

            When the bells rang in the square, Clarke bit her fingers. It was only a matter of time for everything started to change.

 

* * *

 

            “ _Care to explain your tardiness to dinner last night since you weren’t able to previously?_ ” Roan had asked his brother as he was prepped for the matrimonial ceremony. He’d rather have Clarke as company but as they say, it’s always bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding.

            How ancient superstitions stick sometimes, though Roan desired that it wouldn’t be the case.

            Aspen shrugged. “ _You already figured it out_ ,” he retorted. “ _I’m surprised that you haven’t locked me up for taking matters into my own hands_.”

            Honesty. That’s all Roan wanted from his brother. Nothing else and it was fortunate that Aspen didn’t lie his way out of it.

            “ _Not if you were protecting my interests_ ,” Roan made known. He had heard the bells chime in the square. Probably beckoning the nobility that it was time for the ceremonies. Informing the commoners that it was almost time to gather in the streets despite the cold. A knot formed in the pit of his stomach. “ _Two deaths instead of thousands. That’s what we can live by_.”

            He picked up the white silk tunic and placed it over his shirt. Followed by the powder blue vest and the chain to keep it together.

            “ _Is it more than just politics, brother?_ ” Aspen asked as he secured the chain around his torso. “ _It’s not bad if it is, Roan. I probably made things bearable_.”

            Regarding his relationship with Clarke, it wasn’t pure politics. To say that he didn’t have a place for her in his heart would be a lie. Though they weren’t getting married because they loved each other. it was to assure civility.

            Two people that love each other dearly marrying for diplomacy. It put a new spin on ‘marriage of convenience’, if he was certain.

            “ _Our marriage is simply for diplomacy_ ,” he answered. “ _Though I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love her_.”

            Aspen let something out between a snort and chuckle. “ _Marrying the girl you love for the sake of diplomacy_ ,” he answered. “ _Unusual but not a bad idea in the slightest_.”

            Upon being summoned, Roan knew that past unions between the monarchs were never between people that loved each other. He had doubted that his mother loved his father even. He never heard them exchange those three words.

            His anticipation and anxiety drew cold sweat from him.

 

* * *

 

            Octavia expected the hassle of protecting Clarke from assassins when she arrived to Polis a couple days ago with Lincoln. That being her security detail was what was on the agenda for her. Well, until confusion set in when she didn’t see her.

            “Clarke felt it was necessary to marry the king of Ice Nation for the sake of diplomacy,” Anya explained. “That it would bring civility between your clan and Ice Nation. While it’s considered practically unheard of, the Commander and I feel like it wasn’t a bad idea.”

            “So, who’s going to represent us?” Octavia demanded of her. “Kane?”

            “We can’t risk his life due to the predicament in Arkadia,” Anya answered. “Considering you are Skaikru and have no problem assimilating with us, you are our alternative, _Oktevia kom Skaikru_.”

            The thought of Clarke marrying that artic bastard boiled Octavia’s blood. It made Lexa’s betrayal at Mount Weather completely juvenile.

            “She was there when Raven informed Bellamy about Gina,” Octavia seethed in the present as she paced in her and Lincoln’s room in the embassy. One that they designated for _Skaikru_. “Clarke knows about Lexa’s first lover and everything they did to your people. She just threw us under the bus.”

            Clarke literally signed their death warrant.

            “Marriage alliances are not too common but they are not unusual,” Lincoln said. “Even with the Coalition, there is no guarantee that two clans would be on civil terms. Only twice did such unions take place. The second one was fifty years ago between the Lake People and the Shallow Valley.”

            Octavia snorted. Even with Lincoln’s explanation, it didn’t make it right. “How do you feel about her joining forces with those monsters when they have done nothing but kill your people, kill my brother’s girlfriend and the forty-eight of _Skaikru_? You told me that they killed a few of your friends in battle.”

            “As problematic as it is, it’s better than the alternative,” Lincoln stressed. “My clan has been locked in war with them for nearly two centuries and Nia almost brought us back into it before her death.”

            “You were angry at Bellamy for taking it his anger on _Trikru_ and not Ice Nation,” Octavia pointed out. “Suddenly Clarke’s heel face turn is okay.”

            “I don’t want retaliation against either of them, no matter how brutal and ruthless they are,” Lincoln rationalized. “We lost more to your people then you did to us but that only dwarfs how many we lost to Ice Nation. We lost thousands to them over the past two centuries. It’s not going to erase years of trauma at their hand but this world needs civility. There is too much bloodshed even after _Praimfaya_. In fact, the Coalition was supposed to be a pacifistic alliance before Ice Nation started to wage a series of wars.”

            Octavia shook her head. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Lincoln was supposed to agree with her. He lost his people to Ice Nation . His friends were killed in front of him and here he was rationalizing it.

            Octavia threw her hands in the air before leaving the room. Ignoring Lincoln’s calls to her as she left the room. She was going to get some air.

            _Damn Clarke and her need to decide for everybody_ , Octavia thought. When didn’t Clarke not feel the need to be in control? It sickened her already that Clarke acted like calling the shots was thrust upon her against her will when she tried to be in control the very day they landed on this planet.

 

* * *

 

            The silk scratched against her leg. The blood pounding in her ears as she walked towards the giant hall that she was led to. Her legs feeling like gelatin.

            Clarke maintained a stoic façade. It was _Wanheda_ that they were expecting to walk down these halls. Their king was not marrying some nervous girl. It wouldn’t look right. One had to look strong if they were to become queen of another clan.

            She swallowed as the doors swung open. Hiding her nervousness as she steered herself into the massive room. Hundreds of eyes were on her. Watching her as her feet walked down the aged green carpet towards the center where a man was waiting. Probably there to officiate the ceremony.

            Clarke tried to ignore the sea of eyes and paid her attention towards the man approaching her from the opposite direction. For only he mattered today.

            Nothing else mattered. Just him and what this union would accomplish.

            His eyes never left her either as they drew closer. The sweat collecting at the back of her neck. If this were a wedding from the Ark, her father would be walking her down the aisle.

            Don’t, she thought. Trying to blink away the tears. _Azgeda_ tradition didn’t permit it but she give anything for her father to be alive and walk her down the aisle. He was supposed to experience walking his daughter down the aisle to meet her spouse.

            Clarke and Roan both gripped their hands together upon meeting in the center. Clarke taking note on how sweaty his hands were as they kneeled and bowed their heads. He was nervous as she was. Something that wouldn’t be unusual.

            After what seemed like a minute, the officiator, who Lagertha referred to as Bronson, declared, “ _People of Azgeda, today marks the day of a special union. Not only will we be given our king and queen but two clans will become one on this day. Both striving for civility and unity after months of turmoil. Will Clarke kom Skaikru and King Roan kom Azgeda rise please?_ ”

            She kept her eyes on his as they did. Ignoring everybody in the room.

            “ _Wanheda, do you swear an oath to rule beside him and establish unity?_ ”

            “ _Yes_ ,” she answered as a young boy carrying a long box approaches.

            “ _Sire, do you swear an oath to rule beside her and establish unity?_ ”

            “ _Yes_ ,” was his answer.

            Her heart picked up as Bronson removed the lid and picked up a knife with an ornately carved wooden handle. Clarke wagered that they use that knife for ceremonies like this. “ _To symbolize that you two are bound, you two shall bind yourselves in blood_ ,” Bronson explained, handing Clarke the knife. “ _You both will receive this oath_.”

            It wasn’t hard to determine why, especially with Roan stretching out his palm. Clarke drew in her breath as she drew the point of the knife against his palm. Drawing a shallow cut. The tip of wiped with a cloth before she offers her hand, hiding a wince as he carved a shallow cut on her hand.

            Both hands joined together before a blue ribbon bounded them together. Further signifying their union.

            It was several minutes later that they were declared bound by marriage. “ _We present you King Roan and Queen Clarke of Azgeda_ ,” it was announced.

            Even if Clarke could not shake the feeling that she was betraying her people, this was worth it.


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might not be my best chapter, so bear with me on this.

With Abby Griffin held up in the medical bay, Bellamy and Wells seized the opportunity. They had time anyway. Hopefully, that is.

            Bellamy thought about acquiring Jasper’s help for picking locks, since that was his expertise. He was agonizing about the fact that he might listen to Jasper’s jabs about the Mountain when Wells revealed that he was able to swipe room combination codes from Monty.

            It made it less stressful as Bellamy’s heart rate was taken up to an eleven. This wasn’t good for his blood pressure.

            The door cracked open after one try, Bellamy closing the door behind him as Wells would stand on guard in the end of the corridors. The code word was “greenhouse three” if Abby was sighted.

            The blood pounded in his ears as Bellamy opened the drawers. Combing through everything that he could find in them. Medical books, diagrams, fiction and nonfiction novels. Abby was smart enough to not leave something out in the open if it contained a clue about Clarke’s whereabouts.

            He opened the drawer of her nightstand when something fell from the bottom of the drawer. A piece of yellowed and paper. Must be the Grounders’ parchment, since his people were using the paper left behind at the Mountain.

            His fingers shook and the blood pounded in his stomach. The letter was written in black charcoal and though slightly smeared with dry tear marks, he could recognize Clarke’s print. He read over the letter a second time and these words stood out to him than the others: _As a safeguard to ensure diplomacy, Roan and I agreed to form a marriage treaty. Binding our clans together. Azgeda would treat our needs like their own and vice versa._

 _Azgeda_. The damn Ice Nation. Clarke was up in Ice Nation. A combination of confusion and anger took hold of him when he registered the fact that she was going to marry that bastard and align with Ice Nation.

            Clarke was literally there when Raven paged in from the radio. She was there to hear that Ice Nation killed their people and she had the nerve to go through a marriage treaty with the bastard that kidnapped her?

            She knew better than this, though that shouldn’t surprise him since she realigned with Lexa despite her betrayal with the same rationalization. Bellamy tossed the letter in the drawer. Not caring that Abby would suspect a break in as he barged out the room.

            Ignoring Wells as he bumped into him. “Bellamy, what happened?” he demanded.

            In that moment, anger and betrayal were replaced with urgency. “She doesn’t know what she is doing,” he muttered under his breath. They were bound to find out about the massacre. Even if she meant well, the image of her decapitated curdled his intestines. Bellamy went after her once and he’ll do it again.

            He threw his compartment door open. Aware that Wells followed him in as he grabbed his backpack. “What are you doing?” Wells demanded as Bellamy unzipped the bag.

            “Clarke is in Ice Nation,” Bellamy rasped as he threw his clothes in. “She married the Queen’s son for diplomacy sake or some nonsense like that.”

            “And you’re going after her?” Wells demanded.

            “If I don’t, they will kill her when they hear about the massacre,” Bellamy insisted. “Now, if you excuse me…”

            Wells stood in front of the door. Blocking him with his hand. “This is why Clarke wouldn’t want us to know,” Wells explained. “She kept us in the dark because she knew that you would want to do something stupid like what you are about to do.”

            “It’s not stupid,” Bellamy argued, feeling himself shake. “We don’t leave behind our own. She’s also your best friend, so you should go along with me.”

            “The Ice Nation capital is by the Niagara Falls, a little past of what was the Canadian border,” Wells persisted. “Lincoln said that the weather is unpredictable there in this time of year. Even if you don’t get killed by Ice Nation warriors, you could freeze to death before you starve along the way. Besides, Clarke is the most Slytherin person I know. She wouldn’t decide this if something were to happen. They probably talked about what to do if something like that were to happen.”

            Bellamy didn’t want to listen. He couldn’t believe what Wells was saying. It was a matter of time before he became aware of the blood pounding in his ears as he tried to struggle to get out with no success. His world shaking around him as he crumbled to the ground.

            Sobs overcoming him as Wells moved to hug and comfort him. “Clarke is going to be okay,” Wells tried to assure him. “Just trust that she will be.”

Even with Wells’ assurance, Bellamy regretted not following Clarke those months ago. Things would have turned out different if they had.

 

* * *

 

The cold air bit his scars as the wagon steered he and Clarke through the city. The masses observing in the prescribed silence when they are presented with the new monarchs. It was tradition that the couples would ride through the city after the ceremony. The populace deserved to see their new king and queen.

Though it was one of these things that Roan never understood.

Clarke fastened her fur cloak around her as the carriage continued its ride. Probably to keep herself warm from the bitter cold. The dress had layers of silk, so it wouldn’t be thin. Yet, silk was such a poor choice.

She clasped his hands in his, the strands of her blonde hair blowing against her face. After this ride, the wedding feasts would begin. The second and final part of the ceremonies was tomorrow. They would consummate their marriage tonight, with the coronation first thing tomorrow morning before part two of the feast.

Then Clarke will earn her facial branding, to make her one of them.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he explained to her the previous day.

“No, _Wanheda_ has to take the brand,” she insisted. “They are less likely to accept me if I don’t.”

She wasn’t wrong there. Personally, he rather keep her face free from branding. However, brand or no facial brand, she would still be beautiful.

The carriage traveled through all the blocks and upon its final leg around the inside of the White Forest’s perimeter, he could see Clarke curl her lips into a smile. He could imagine what she was thinking as she eyed the snowbanks.

Probably restraining herself from making some joke. Something he was doing as well. They couldn’t risk that strong façade crumbling even with the coachman in front of them. Hopefully tonight would allow them to release whatever humor and jokes they have suppressed in favor of strong stoicism.

Their ride lasted for an hour and after they could see the Falls, the carriage turned back. Back for the first part of the feast.

 

* * *

 

Clarke had only been to one reception in the Ark. How simple it was due to the meals from rations and the small cake. Nothing too fancy. It was nothing compared to what she saw when she and Roan entered the banquet hall with joined hands after their announcement.

Her eyes widened as she processed the malady of aromas in the room. Beef, pig, stewed vegetables and potatoes. Followed by her processing the banquet tables of food. The selection reminding her of those portraits of banquets. And on one of them was a roasted pig with an apple in its mouth.

It was so predictable that Clarke had to restrain herself from giggling. A banquet complete with a roasted pig. All the trappings of a medieval banquet.

They sat at two chairs with large carved backs. The cushions a blue velveteen. Sitting down in one made Clarke feel like she was in some period piece or a renaissance painting. There were the plates and cups to go with it even.

It took some time to be aware of the applause and cheers. Furthering encouraging Clarke to produce a mask of stoicism and strength. She was _Wanheda_ ; the one that killed hundreds since arriving. She should appear capable of withstanding sheer enthusiasm if she was able to kill hundreds.

She ignored the sweat on her palms as she picked up the aged fork. This was better than being on display in the cold. At least this crowd of Grounders weren’t killing her or preparing for battle like the previous times she saw them en masse.

This was a celebration. Something that they don’t seem to take for granted given the jubilant and ecstatic feeling in the room. If you party, enjoy it while it lasts. For one of them could die tomorrow.

From her peripheral vision, she could clearly see Echo’s look of disgust following by seeing her grabbing a bottle before walking away. Probably going to drink it somewhere.

“ _Ceremonies like this give the Guards that are off duty a chance to drink_ ,” he whispered to her ear.

Just the overwhelming aspect of this was enough for Clarke to take the cork off of the nearby bottle and pour wine in her cup. She could use a drink as well. The wine tasted sweet and red. Rosé wine was it? Maybe.

 

* * *

 

 “How many to last us before they run out?” Pike asked as Bellamy stepped inside the greenhouse.

“Probably about a month,” Hannah answered. The new Vice Chancellor serving alongside Pike.

“We still got seeds to grow more food,” Monty continued, “giving us another month but with this trade embargo, the Woods Clan wouldn’t give us any more.”

That was the terms of the trade embargo issued by the Commander, Bellamy heard. The Woods Clan and the other eleven clans wouldn’t give them any of their resources. Trikru would stop giving Arkadia their seeds and their cotton as a result.

The latter which were used to weave new clothes for the population. Alongside the wool that Trikru received from the Shallow Valley clan.

“Then we’ll be in bad shape,” Pike stressed. “If we don’t clear that village soon, Arkadia will be starving in a year.”

Even if his mistrust was understandable, it was only going to make the situation worse. Lexa displayed to Pike that the Woods Clan wasn’t limited to aggression by enforcing the trade embargo. Pike was going to take that act of mercy for granted and provoke them even further.

Hannah left with her son, leaving Bellamy with Pike. “Is everything alright, son?” Pike asked him.

 _No, it’s not_ , Bellamy wanted to say. Pike must have seen his bloodshot eyes from the sobbing Bellamy lost himself to due to Clarke’s whereabouts. If he could trust Pike with this information, he would have. Considering his history with Ice Nation, Pike would deem Clarke a traitor.

He couldn’t risk that.

“I just didn’t sleep last night,” Bellamy choked.

Pike nodded as in understanding before walking forward. “We were not to take pleasure with what happened back there,” Pike started. “I took no pleasure myself. Things didn’t need to go that far. However, there comes a time where we need to assert ourselves to our enemies.”

“The Commander answered with a trade embargo,” Bellamy pointed out, “and you’re still set on clearing out that village? They are still recovering from our flares as it is.”

“If we don’t, we’ll starve,” Pike argued. “We landed here and we have the right to grow our food here and live without the regulations.”

 _Had they gone up to the Ark, you would have wanted them to abide by our rules_ , Bellamy wanted to say. But he didn’t. He had a mission to do and he wasn’t going to go anywhere with it if he kept outwardly resisting. Even if he wanted to.

“Yes, sir,” he answered. Perhaps it was a good idea that Clarke didn’t come back. She would have a hard time accepting this, despite the fact that she wasn’t Pro-Grounder as Kane and Wells.

 

* * *

 

Towards the night, they went to the matrimonial chamber. Personally, Roan didn’t see the point of such a room. They had their own quarters that they could consummate their marriage in rather than some extra room. At the same time, it gave them an excuse for privacy.

Gave them an outlet to release their frustration and anxiety.

He could feel her pulse hitch as she clenched around him. Dragging her fingernails against his back as she came with a strangled cry. Force of habit almost made him pull out, but he thrust inside her until he throbbed within her.

Filling her with his seed.

Roan collapsed beside her. Breathing deeply from their recent passion.

“That felt good,” Clarke rasped.

“Sex is more efficient to combat stress, if I learned anything from personal experience,” he divulged.

Clarke hummed in agreement as she turned on her side. Resting her head on his chest. Roan reached her hair with his fingers; stroking her stands of hair.

“Roan, may I ask you something?” she asked.

“Anything, Clarke,” he encouraged.

She hesitated, as if she tried to think about how to approach it. “The servants in the palace,” she started. “Are some of them…?”

Roan wondered when she might ask that. In fact, it seemed to be her question that she was going to ask before Echo interrupted them this morning. Especially given Clarke’s curious look as they were served their breakfast. “Half of them are,” he answered. “Half of them aren’t. The ones that are committed some sort of crime some form of another.”

Forced labor was a punishment created by his third great-grandmother. That criminals committing moderate treason or enemies of the clan must pay by “helping their fellowman.” Yet, that blanket started to cover somethings as trivial.

“Like what?” Clarke demanded.

“Moderate treason or for simply being part of an enemy clan,” he answered. “Overtime, even if you committed trivial like stealing a loaf of bread, punishment was forced labor if the merchant didn’t come up with a competent punishment.”

Clarke shook her head as in disbelief. “Enslaving people just for stealing a loaf of bread?” she demanded. “Yes, the leadership of my people floated people left and right for minor things, yet enslaving people for things like that is just as bad.”

Enslavement. It could be seen as synonymous as forced labor, for personal autonomy is suspended when that happens.

“It is extreme for bread stealing,” he agreed. “If anything, the pillory would only be enough. Humiliation is a uncomfortable yet efficient deterrent, I heard.” For extra measure, he added, “Those who were simply a member of the opposing clan don’t deserve it either.”

“We are just going to emancipate a portion?” she demanded. “Why not all?”

“If you want change, it’s best to do it slowly,” he advised. “People are more likely to accept it that way. People don’t accept change if it’s swift. That calls for abolishing an edict as well. It has to be done slowly.”

Doesn’t history say that abrupt change was met with violent resistance?

Clarke pressed her lips together. As if she was thinking about it. “So, what are we going to do about it first?” she asked and as always, it was like she answered her own question.

“People designated as enemies and those in for minor offenses,” he answered. Even when his mother agreed to the ceasefire with the Commander’s Coalition, she never fulfilled her promise of freeing those enslaved during times of war. An example of the remaining tensions with the clans.

_Tap! Tap! Tap!_

Seriously, on a night of all nights? Wasn’t anything sacred around here? Whatever it was, they could wait.

“ _Shit_ ,” he muttered under his breath as Clarke scrambled to put on the robe that lay by her side of the bed. He pulled on a pair of spare trousers before answering the door.

Seiku. Perhaps Echo was too preoccupied for this idiocy.

“ _Whatever it is, hopefully it’s worthwhile_ ,” he spat out, not hiding the irritation in his tone. He could sense Clarke slowly approaching him from behind.

“ _I apologize for disrupting your time, your majesties_ ,” he apologetically stated. “ _We have just received word from Polis regarding a development in Arkadia_.”

“ _What?_ ” Clarke demanded, joining his side at the door. Worry etched on her face. “ _What happened?_ ”

“ _If they heard correctly, your people had a ill-timed election after the summit_ ,” Seiku answered. “ _The new Chancellor and his army slaughtered two hundred and ninety-nine members of a Trikru peacekeeping force. One survived_.”

No, she mouthed quietly. “ _No, no, no, no_ ,” she repeated louder. Just as the ramifications of it surfaced in Roan’s mind. Shit.

“ _Does everyone know?_ ” he asked.

“ _Word will spread and there will be unease regarding her presence_ ,” Seiku answered. “ _Unfortunately being Wanheda doesn’t erase the fact that she is Skaikru, even if you bring her into the fold_.”

There was no denying that. People will be emboldened by this turn of events. It would be easy to cancel the ceremonies. Protect her from assassination attempts, yet it wouldn’t change anything. Not to mention that she wouldn’t appreciate it.

Also, _Trikru_ were the victims. Not any of his own people, so technically this marriage treaty wasn’t violated

“ _Trikru was victimized, not Azgeda_ ,” Clarke maintained. “ _The terms do not mention a third party. Technically, the marriage treaty is intact_.”

“ _Things should go as scheduled tomorrow_ ,” Roan added. “ _I will install two extra security detail. And let Costia know that her services will begin tomorrow_.”

Clarke’s _Wanheda_ façade melted away when he left them, even after it was informed that the Polis emissary will pay them a visit. It appeared that she was going to collapse, that he caught her just before she fell to her knees. Carrying her to the matrimonial bed.

“I don’t understand…what happened?” she choked. “I never thought…?”

“This isn’t your fault,” he assured her. It was the truth. They had no inkling that something of that magnitude was going to happen. She didn’t know. “If everyone had hindsight, disasters would have been prevented.”

The people that designed those nukes in the first place wouldn’t have made them if they had clear hindsight.

“I should have gone back…” she faltered. “I should have…”

He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. Rocking her slightly to soothe her. “Clarke,” he whispered, “this isn’t your fault. Don’t beat yourself up over this.”

She breathed deeply and after a short while, reached up to kiss him. They made love a second time that night. As if that was her solution to temporarily escape the turmoil she was in.

People need release every once and a while.

 

* * *

 

During the first part of the ceremonies, the Royal Guard that were off duty raided the alcohol cellars. Taking anything that they can get their hands on. Usually Echo took delight in these celebrations, for it was nothing wrong to participate in the indulgence.

Not tonight.

Instead, she swiped a wine bottle from the banquet hall. Trying to ignore what was in front of her, yet it didn’t help her that she was sitting there. And that bitch was going to be crowned alongside Roan first thing the following morning before the second half of the feast.

Echo craved release. And she acquired it with Costia. Their skin melding together as their moans filled the room. Gasping in pleasure when they took turns placing their fingers inside each other. Their lips wet from the passion. Dark blonde hair weaving with brown hair.

Hours later, Echo lay awake while Costia slept beside her. The former going over what Roan told her the night before.

_“You are to regard her as you would me. Treat her with the same respect as you would me. I may be king and yes, she was not born here as I, however, that would not diminish her power as queen.”_

_“You will respect and obey your king, and disrespecting and disobeying Clarke will be disrespecting and disobeying me. Giving her harm of any sort will give me harm. Showing her disloyalty to her would be showing disloyalty to me.”_

Respect her as you do me. Something that Echo still couldn’t fathom even if she tried to understand. Wanheda was Skaikru. Her people killed a few of her own, though they didn’t seem to care who they hurt given their skirmishes with Trikru when they landed.

But Bellamy is Skaikru, her mind reminded her.

He was and the only one who she regretted betraying. When she saw him kiss that girl, she wanted to suggest that he take her too. That way she wouldn’t be killed. But Echo didn’t, as she didn’t want to waste time trying to get him out and those words failed her.

Echo didn’t want to think about the betrayal he must have felt when he saw her gone. That was the thing about war. It drives you to do things that hurt the people you care about, even if you mean well.

Wanheda didn’t need her respect. She was better off dead than alive. Though Echo wasn’t an idiot. Roan was serious when he said that respecting _Wanheda_ meant that she would respect him in turn. It was all in his eyes and the cadence of his tone.

She didn’t want to, but she had to. For him.

Echo cherished Roan with all her heart and she wanted to make sure that she wouldn’t hurt him as she most likely did Bellamy. When the sun rose, it only further her resolve.

It might betray Nia’s memory but Echo wanted Roan to know that she had his respect.

 

* * *

 

The lovemaking from last night did not stop the ensuing images in her head that night. Over three hundred bodies strewn across a field. Punctured with bullet wounds and flies surrounding them. She didn’t want to imagine the reeking smell of the blood.

Clarke tried to shake those images away the next morning that she was prepared for the double coronation. Dressed in a number with ancient blue velvet. The skirt slit at both sides to allow her leg movement. Leather trousers worn below the waist.

She and Roan didn’t talk. Probably because there was nothing to talk about. Perhaps he was thinking about what happened. Clarke couldn’t fathom it herself. It relieved her that Kane didn’t do it but the question of ‘who’ really bothered her.

Though maybe it was best that perhaps she did not want to know. For ignorance of such knowledge might be bliss though.

Even if she could understand it, whoever organized that attack signed her people’s death warrant. That it would have given Trikru another reason to wipe them out. Hopefully, Lexa was more rational then to attack her people.

He squeezed her hand before they both left for the throne hall. Possibly in reassurance that everything would be alright. It should be. They planned the terms for the treaty.

When they slowly approached the thrones, Clarke could feel the tension in the room. So strong that she could taste it. Did they hear what happened with around Arkadia or was it tension due to receiving two new monarchs after the death of the old one? Especially one that is not among their own.

Magnus met them at the top of the dais. Standing between two people; the latter two holding a pillow. The diadem rested on one, with the pendent and a bone crown resting on the other. Clarke wondered what mutated animal the crown came from as the points resembled teeth?

They held hands as they kneeled down on one knee. Only separating their hands as grey-blue sashes were draped on them and secured around their shoulders. Clarke was dimly aware of Roan’s siblings standing to the left side. The rest of the council at the other.

She swallowed, trying not to break her mask as Magnus picked up the pendant in one hand; the crown in the other.

 _“Roan kom Azgeda, son of Nia and Bendigeidfran_ ,” he started. “ _Do you swear the honor the ones before you, to protect your people, and to exert your power?_ ”

“ _Yes_ ,” Roan answered huskily.

Clarke watched from her peripheral vision as the pendant was placed over his head. The crown coming next. The bottom points framing his features.

“ _Klark kom Skaikru kom au Azgeda_ ,” Magnus addressed her. “ _Wanheda, will you treat the needs of this clan as your own, honor the ones before you, protect every life in this territory, and to exert your power?_ ”

Of course the oath designated for her will be worded differently. Being an outsider, of all things. The room was still with silence and from her right, she saw Echo standing in the crowd. With Ontari rows back. Both women with skepticism and resentment on their faces.

Not too thrilled that she would be replacing Roan’s mother.

“ _I will_ ,” Clarke answered.

Magnus lifted the diadem from the pillow and Clarke could hear three quarters of the room breaking out in mutters. Mutters that sounded scandalized and were threatening to pitch to shouts if they were able to. Especially when the diadem touched her forehead.

“ _Ascend_ ,” was the instruction and they did. Joining hands once more as they were guided to the set of thrones. Both of them carved and glazed in some places. As if they wanted to look like ice was on it.

“ _I present to you, King Roan and Queen Clarke kom Azgeda_ ,” Magnus announced. The room erupting in shouts. Clarke couldn’t determine whether they were victory or anger. Maybe both.

Victory for Roan being king and anger for her being queen. That the only thing that would stop people from trying to kill her was loyalty to him.

Roan told her that she would thank him for keeping her alive and even if it might be too soon, now would be the time.

 _Thanks_ , Roan, she said mentally. _For keeping me alive_.

She would say it out loud that night.

 

 


	24. Chapter Twenty Four

            Clarke lay on the chaise. The bandage over her forehead and the sides of her face. Following the coronation dinner, she was led to another room. Waiting for her was a table and a box of what looked like metal in various shapes.

            “It’s very painful,” Roan informed her as she laid on the wooden table. “Just close your eyes and grit your teeth. It’s what I did when I received mine. Balling your fists help too. First day is the worst.”

            The second person in the room – who she presumed would give her the brands – strapped her to the table. Probably because she figured that the instinct to leap off the table might come up. Maybe they had some that did.

            Clarke could smell metal kindling against the fire. Focusing on Roan’s presence in the room once she saw a something shaped like the brand that Nia had on her face glow a fiery orange.

            _Clarke, you could do this_ , she thought to herself. _You cut open your stitches with a nail, you sustained injuries and got them cauterized. You can handle this_.

            She found his hand and gripped it. Squeezing it hard.

            When the first metal touched her skin, she grit her teeth and balled her fists. Stifling whatever screams threatened to erupt from her throat. Same when another piece of white hot metal touched the other side of her face. Each time it felt like she was given a pain that was a hundred times more painful.

            They put something on her newly acquired brands before putting the bandages on her face. She didn’t know whether it soothed her or to make it scar more. Most likely the latter. She would have to take off the bandages first thing tomorrow morning, it was said.

            The door opened and in came Costia. Clothed in black compared to what she wore yesterday. Must be a prescribed color for women of her chosen stature.

            “ _He’s going to be with you shortly_ ,” Costia divulged after setting a tray next to her. “ _I thought I might give you tea and something_.”

            On a plate there was something that looked round. As if it were one of those pies that you made without the pan. Pasties, they must be if she’s correct.

            “ _Thanks_ ,” Clarke rasped.

            “ _It’s quite painful the first two days_ ,” Costia shared. “ _First day is the worse. I felt like I was dying when I received mine_.”

            Probably because she felt like she was lumped in with the people who imprisoned her. That it would mark her as one of them. Clarke would understand why. Clarke sat up and cautiously took the pasty. Watching the middle crumble as she broke it in two. Corn and something that looked like bear meat.

            As Costia left her in the room, Clarke wanted to stop and talk to her. Then decided against it. For she could reopen an old wound without even thinking. For it was evident that saying Lexa’s name was painful for her.

            Lexa went through agony believing that Costia was dead. It might be worse for Costia since she now has the chance to reunite with her but doesn’t want to step back into _Trigeda_ for fear of rejection.

            Clarke was halfway through her pasty and drinking her tea when Roan entered.

            “How is your face?” he asked her.

            “Tender to the touch,” she answered. She curled her lips in a smile. “It’s not like I haven’t been in pain, though it’s more then what I’ve been through.”

            “Even the strongest among _Azgeda_ find the pain unbearable,” he confessed as he sat next to her. “In the end, it’s worth it.”

            Clarke heard the phrases ‘suffer to be beautiful’ and that ‘the pain is worth it’. Receiving the _Azgeda_ brand on her face while trying to ensure civility with the downside of her people hating for it might be worth it.

            “Do we appear before the council tomorrow morning first thing?” she asked.

            “They are going to want to brief us as a whole or they would want to listen to any first requests that we have,” he answered. “I might fatigue them on some level. Even if a portion of them liked the idea of me marrying you, they preferred my mother’s option best.”

            “I think that most of _Azgeda_ wants you to kill me,” she pointed out. Though there was one thing. “Emerson dying might get them to wake up.”

            “It will take more than sanctioning the execution of the remaining Mountain Man to warrant you earned respect,” he pointed out. “The only thing that’s preventing most of the masses in this city from wanting to kill you is the respect they had for my mother and they were conditioned to respect the family as a whole.”

            “And I guess that you told them to respect me as they do you,” she supposed. After all, didn’t Lexa order _Trikru_ to respect her as they would their Commander during the month when they teamed up to stop the Mountain? Roan would most likely do the same.

            He nodded. “They know that it wouldn’t be to their benefit if they didn’t,” he said. “The Royal Guard will be risking their heads if they decided to take action into their own hands.”

            _Maybe a brazen few_ , Clarke thought to herself. Even if she didn’t want to think about it, it was a strong possibility that a few people might make an attempt on her life.

            “Cenwulf and an assassin he was seen talking with a couple nights ago were found dead a few hours before,” Roan continued. “If people are smart, they will see it as a deterrent.”

            The advisor that had been the most vocal about his dissent regarding her becoming the next Azplana. There would be people that would connect to their deaths to her presence. As if she didn’t need to kill people herself to be _Wanheda_.

            “Any hints who did it?” she asked.

            “If I didn’t know any better, I would have rubbed it off as mere coincidence,” Roan answered. “It surprised me that Aspen would go this length to protect my interests. Last time I knew, he’d die for my mother. I vowed to keep it between the two of us and I just broke that vow. I had to let you know, I figure.”

            Aspen. Perhaps their mother’s banishment of Roan drew a divide? Maybe?

            “ _Seems like your presence provides others around you with that touch of death as well_.”

            A gnawing unease returned when she thought over those words. She quoted Oppenheimer once. Maybe she was the destroyer of worlds, despite the efforts to do the opposite.

            “Roan, thank you,” she said. “For keeping me alive.”

            His lips curled into a smile. “Your welcome,” he answered. “Didn’t I say you would on the day we met?”

            The day they met. Back when the genocide at Mount Weather was two days fresh. When she was scared and clueless on where to go and what to do. When she thought she didn’t need his help. When he was a bounty hunter living day by day, the mud concealing the brands on his forehead.

            “Yes,” she answered. “Only I didn’t think I would.”

The next morning, Clarke peeled off the bandages the next morning. The brands were slightly red and when she touched them, she winced slightly. Not too painful but tender to the touch.

            Her features were the same but in a way she felt like she was gazing at a different person. Like another version of herself from an alternate dimension. An alternate dimension in which she was bred and raised here instead of the sky.

            The brands marked her as _Azgeda_. Even if people from the Ark knew her from before, it wouldn’t matter to a portion that she was one of them when they see the brands marking her as _Azplana_.

 

* * *

 

            Clarke was at his side when they departed towards the council room. Her fist balled as she walked briskly beside him. Her chest out, exuding confidence. Either she was trying to feel confident about what she would help propose this morning or it was part of her _Wanheda_ façade, it wasn’t hard to determine that it was most likely both.

            That Mountain Man was as good as dead, if Roan was concerned. If there was to be a show of force, then let that parasite’s death be it. Any enemies of _Azgeda_ and _Skaikru_ deserved what would be coming to them.

            Twelve of the advisors (Cenwulf’s replacement, Kirsten, included) stood up as he and Clarke entered the meeting room. Tension enveloped the room, with a portion of their advisors’ narrowing their eyes and crossing their arms. Another portion, like Magnus, were leaning forward in anticipation. The rest were indifference.

            He didn’t know whether the first or last should worry him. After all, what did he except when he introduced his idea of marrying her a few days ago? Though it could have been from this development that just reached _Azgeda_.

            “ _Morning, your majesties_ ,” Magnus greeted smoothly. “ _Do you two have an idea what we should consult you two on?_ ”

            Clarke was the first to speak after they sat down. “ _Yes_ ,” she answered forcefully. Resulting in them leaning forward with curiosity. “ _How would you all feel that as our first show of force, we execute Carl Emerson of Mount Weather?_ ”

            A few advisor’s exchanged looks as Kirsten shook her head in amusement. “ _That’s pretty bold for Wanheda to say the first thing, especially if you’re not bred and raised here_ ,” she challenged.

            “ _Why would you care about Azgeda affairs?_ ” Blaeja asked skeptically.

            “ _You wouldn’t want someone who was complicit and had a part of the murders of a few people in your clan to live, would you?_ ” Clarke demanded of her.

            Her words seemed to take an effect, for Blaeja furthered her brow and tilted her head before glancing at the advisor next to her.

            “ _More Trikru died in their hands then our own,_ ” Thorvard claimed with skepticism.

            “ _That doesn’t mean that the Azgeda lives that they took meant less_ ,” Abbott pointed out. “ _Besides, he’s been a strain on our resources_.”

            “ _Echo is one of the known victims during peacetime at their hand, from what I was told_ ,” Roan pointed out. “ _Most of Mount Weather’s operations were during wartime, so it’s hard to determine if that number was lower or just the same as Trikru_.”

            “ _The Azgeda fatality is slightly higher than Skaikru fatality_ ,” Clarke maintained. Probably to assure the advisors that she wasn’t just doing this for her own people’s benefit.

            “ _Nia gave him a reason to live, so he earned his life_ ,” Gardar stressed. “ _We couldn’t possibly repay that by killing him after he was essential to this clan_.”

            “ _The old queen is dead, Gardar_ ,” Celsa stressed. “ _Why should he live when Nia only kept him alive as part of her vendetta against the Commander?_ ”

            “ _Why not let Wanheda finish what she started?_ ” Margarethe proposed. “ _One remaining parasite could spell the end of us all_.”

            Roan figured that he was angry with what happened at Mount Weather. The more he lived, the more of a threat he might pose. Especially to Clarke, since he had a vendetta against her. It was best that he die, for her sake.

            “ _To let this parasite live would be a dishonor to both Azgeda and Skaikru_ ,” Roan put forth. “ _He must answer for his crimes. Unless you say otherwise_.”

            There is a pause for a few seconds.

            “ _To avoid arguing in circles, who is in favor of Carl kom Maunkru’s execution?_ ” Magnus asked.

            Eleven but one – Gardar being the exception – raised their hand. Roan might want to keep an eye on him. He couldn’t force another incident like with Cenwulf and that assassin.

            “ _Looks like the majority had spoken_ ,” Magnus concluded. “ _How soon do you want him to stand before you?_ ”

            Gazing at Clarke from his peripheral vision, Roan knew that there was no time to waste. “ _In half an hour, he should find himself before the royal court_ ,” Roan answered.

 

* * *

 

            Carl Emerson turned his son’s music box as he sat in his cell. Still throbbing from the injuries from the beat down that he suffered at the hands of those scarred savages.

            They were keeping him alive so his fate would be determined. The queen was dead, they said. The new monarch will decide his fate. If Clarke was with him like it was rumored to be among these low life Outsiders’, he could only hope that the king will let him kill that bitch before an execution.

            The thought of Clarke consumed him with endless rage. It was because of her that his family and his friends died. She never thought that she was killing innocent children and people just because she threw a hissy fit that they were extracting bone marrow from her people.

            What choice did Cage Wallace have? They didn’t deserve to continue their existence in that Mountain. It wasn’t like they were going to kill every one of her people anyway.

            Those Sky People that were blown up at Mount Weather? They should have known better not to desecrate it after the murders of innocent people. For a group that wanted to survive, they were pitiful idiots that deserved to be put out of their misery.

            He didn’t fight when two Outsiders came and dragged him out of his cell. Chaining him up in the process. He just wished that he would kill Clarke before they would kill him.

            Because life wasn’t worth living anymore.

 

* * *

 

            Sitting on the throne to Roan’s left felt alien. And it didn’t help any with the gathering crowd in the hall. Tapping her sweaty fingers against the armrests as she gazed over at the masses that she claimed as her own alongside with her own people.

            Clarke straightened her posture. Crossing one leg over the other. Just like how Lexa would sit on her throne. How regal and imposing she looked.

            She swallowed as the anticipation filled her. How dread filled her. She had to make life and death decisions before. From the Ring of Fire to TonDC to Mount Weather to Farrel. Now she was going to determine the nature of the execution on the remaining Mountain Man. This time with another clan determining how they view it.

            This time sitting on a throne with the Ice Nation brands on her temples.

            A hush fell over the room as Echo passed through the double doors. The head of the Royal Guard determined on her face and in her movements. “ _The prisoner, your majesties_ ,” she declared. It didn’t go undetected by Clarke that Echo’s eyes suggested that the latter found the plural usage antagonizing.

            That she would rather just have Roan on the throne.

            “ _Send him in_ ,” Roan declared.

            Echo looked towards the doors as they opened. Clarke could recognize four guards escorting someone before she made out Emerson’s broad and stocky form. The anticipation in the room turned to hostility.

            Behind her, she could see that Costia crinkled her nose. As if he was something worse than dirt under her shoes. Echo looked at him as if he was nothing but a rotten apple core.

            Emerson’s face flushed. Clenching his jaw and screaming with rage once they brought him closer. The four guards that were with him held him back as he tried to lunge at Clarke. Forcing him to his knees as her blood pounded in her ears so hard that she might have had a headache.

            _He probably wishes that he could strangle me with the chains bounding him together_ , Clarke thought.

            “Carl kom Maunkru is charged with war crimes against Azgeda and their ally,” Magnus declared. The angry mutters turning to shouts.

            “We did what we had to do survive,” Emerson seethed. Bloodshot and enraged eyes still directed at Clarke. “After killing my children, my wife, and my friends, how does it feel joining a group of violent savages that killed forty-nine of your people?”

            Clarke felt the blood rushing towards her face and neck. “As if you yourself didn’t commit acts of savagery. And you have the audacity to act as if you played no part in their deaths?” Roan demanded as Clarke tasted bile from Emerson’s remark. “Or are you disappointed that you didn’t finish the job?”

            “On top of that, that is rich of you for calling Azgeda savages, while you were complicit in the genocide of Trikru, the deaths of Azgeda, and killing a portion of my people for their bone marrow,” Clarke seethed.

            “I did not destroy Mount Weather,” he challenged, ignoring what she said. “She did. She killed three hundred and ninety one people. One hundred and eighty two men, one hundred and seventy three women, twenty-six children, two of them were mine.”

            Clarke could see that nightmarish image of her blood soaked and irradiated hands as images of Mount Weather reemerged. The burning flesh, that soccer ball…

            “Your president gave me no choice,” she spat out.

            “Afraid to face your demons, Clarke?” Emerson mockingly asked.

            “Too cowardly to admit that your own savagery is what led her to kill your people and children?” Roan demanded, standing up. He looked around the room. “Of those who were victimized by his ilk, speak up.”

            Echo and a handful of others stepped up before the dais.

            “I was imprisoned for almost two months,” Echo declared. “We were kept in cages small enough for animals. I was drained twice .”

            “I was imprisoned for half a year,” the second person said. “I nearly died.”

            “They imprisoned me there for two years,” spat out a woman.

            The few more present gave their accounts. Some more bloodcurdling then the next. Accounts that gave Clarke goosebumps. Ones that curdled her stomach.

            Emerson appeared indifferent.

            “Do you have anything to say for the crimes that you committed?” Roan spat out.

            “I don’t,” Emerson claimed. “Clarke is the one that needs to speak for hers against my people.”

            Clarke swallowed. Retaining her stoic mask. She couldn’t let Emerson allow her to break down her façade. Even if it threatened to break with the images resurfacing.

            “If mercy is what you want, it’s up to the people in this room,” Clarke said. Making sure that her tone indicated that he wouldn’t be given mercy. “Given your defiance, I have to ask for an intake.”

            “I don’t want mercy,” Emerson seethed. “I want revenge. I want you to suffer the same way that I suffered.”

            Clarke bit her lip, trying to avoid what Emerson would mean by that. It wouldn’t have been good. In that case –

            “Killing my people didn’t bring your people back, Emerson,” she spat back. “You are sentenced to death.”

            Mutters and ecstatic whispers rippled through the room.

            “Tradition states that we ask the defendant how they should be executed,” Roan continued. “However, we can’t give you the same courtesy.”

            “What do you have in mind, your majesties?” Magnus asked.

            The room was silent and Clarke knew that this was her cue. Given that people were looking towards her, they expected her to speak up and decide. They most likely expected her to finish the job, obviously. Clarke had only been in Ice Nation for a few days, but she had an idea what the form of execution would be.

            She stood up. “Death by Public,” she announced. “Today at noontide.”

            Echo’s eyes widened, as if they were the last words she expected to hear from her. There was even an uproar. Not one of anger but of surprise, as if they thought that she wouldn’t give them the opportunity to kill him themselves.

            As if they expected her to kill him at her own hand.

            The four guards near him grabbed him and dragged Emerson away. “You can have me killed, Clarke,” he exclaimed, “but you can never escape what you did. My pain ends today. Yours has just begun.”

            Clarke fought to urge to scream that her pain began long before today. That it wasn’t like she killed people without a thought. She clenched her fists and scowled as he was led away.

            Turning back, she could see a ghost of a smirk of on Roan’s face.

            _Good job, Snowflake_ , he must have been thinking.

            Probably for sentencing Emerson to death without defying her Wanheda image.

 

* * *

 

            Lexa swallowed as she entered the throne hall. Desperately ignoring her racing thoughts as she made a beeline for her throne. Her racing thoughts were so incompatible with the tranquility provided by the Flame that her head would have burst if it wanted to.

            Titus was beside her throne. Frowning in displeasure like he had been for the past few days. She had let Clarke leave Polis with Ice Nation’s new king. “Putting your own power and strength in a dangerous predicament,” were his words. Clarke was protecting their interests with this marriage treaty plan. It insured that both Arkadia and _Azgeda_ didn’t try to wipe each other out.

            Why couldn’t Titus see that?

            “ _Good day, ambassadors_ ,” she began, observing _Oktevia kom Skaikru’s_ pursed lips. “ _I am certain we have plenty to talk about_.”

            “ _Regarding the development regarding Skaikru, I should express that this marriage alliance between my clan and theirs is useless at the moment_ ,” Afton spoke up.

            “ _Why do you have suddenly have a concern for Trikru lives?_ ” Octavia spat out.

            “ _Ironic, actually_ ,” Anya pitched in. “ _What happened with Chancellor Pike and that army had nothing to do with your clan and it shouldn’t. It’s a matter within my clan and should be kept that way_.”

            “ _I apologize, but what Skaikru does in one clan affects the Coalition_ ,” Afton argued. “ _Since they are part of the Coalition, their membership should be called into question after the recent turn of events_.”

            The room burst in an uproar and hoping to avoid the situation to get any uglier, Lexa commanded, “ _Silence_.”

            The room went still and quiet as a pin drop.

            “ _I have enforced a trade embargo on Skaikru for the massacre in the field_ ,” she declared. “ _If they don’t realize that we are to their benefit after a week and a half, we will enforce a blockade on them until they hand over their leader.” She looked at Afton. “Unless King Roan and Wanheda have a different idea, since we learned that the new Chancellor and most of the attackers landed in Azgeda territory. I have already sent my emissary to give them additional information_.”

            “ _Considering Wanheda’s background, I doubt that she’ll want to go hard on her own people_ ,” wagered Novi. “ _It’s human nature to be partial to one’s own clan_.”

            Even if it was a risk, Lexa was smart enough to know that Clarke would have the brains to realize that Ice Nation is not a clan to throw under the bus.

            “ _I would be surprised if she would violate whatever terms that she and the king would come up with_ ,” Lexa determined.

            At the meeting’s conclusion, all the ambassadors but Octavia left the room. The girl bestowing a scowl at her.

            “ _You sanctioned Trikru to protect Arkadia for the past few months only to starve us if Pike isn’t handed over to you?_ ” she spat out.

            “ _It depends with what the King and Queen of Azgeda want_ ,” Lexa maintained. “ _If they desire something different, I will grant them their wish_.”

            Octavia shook her head before walking out of the room.

            And Lexa had a feeling that this was just the middle phase of her downward spiral.

 

* * *

 

            The city populace gathered after the toll of the bell. Summoning them to the square. Costia didn’t join the platform. She had requested to take part in the parasite’s execution.

            “ _I know it will not bring my mother back but I feel it’s essential to release any pent of anger I have towards the Mountain_ ,” she requested.

            And Roan was able to grant it to her. He felt it was the right thing to do.

            He couldn’t deny the mounting tension within the masses behind the barrier. It could have been the anxiety of being brought to another execution. Most likely, it was the development regarding Arkadia that probably has got the masses all riled up.

            From his peripheral vision, he could see Clarke scratch the wooden armrest of her designated throne as she stared down the crowd from where she was sitting. He grazed her fingertips with his, hoping to distill any stress and discomfort that there was.

            Magnus lifted his hands to silence the crowd as two _Azgeda_ guards brought up the parasite on the platform. Only for Roan to feel the tension lift up a notch as he and Clarke rose from their seats.

            “ _As you are all aware, the defendant before you has committed a grievous offense against this clan_ ,” Roan announced. “ _Human life in general_.”

            “ _This man not was complicit in the deaths of Azgeda, he is guilty of war crimes against the clans of our allies_ ,” Clarke continued. “ _Of the Commander’s Coalition. People who have never provoked the Mountain. Regardless if they were warriors or civilians_.”

            If there were shouts, they have certainly reached a fever pitch. There was something more feral about the shouts of outrage as Emerson was led to the center and chained to the ground. It was as if they waited for an excuse to finally get their hands on him.

            As if this was the one good thing about his mother’s death.

            “ _His death at your hands shall provide closure for whoever we have lost at the hands of the Mountain Men_ ,” he assured.

            Personally, Roan thought that Emerson was better off dead than alive. Anyone who wanted revenge against Clarke were better off dead, especially if it was regarding something avoidable.

            He could cut the tension and hostility with a knife when members of the town’s populace gathered around the parasite. Who gazed back at Clarke with a shit-eating grin. As if he thought that he was the one winning in this.

            _Damn that unrepentant bastard_. Roan had the strong temptation of going over there and finishing him off himself. It was only fair to let the people lay their hands on him.

            They drew closer, followed by a tense pause. Costia looked down at him before landing a kick at his jaw. It didn’t take long for everyone else to follow. Grabbing and hitting what they could at him.

            Kicking at everywhere on his body. Pulling his hair to the point where parts of his scalp came out. When he was pulled up at one point, Roan could see that his eyes were swelled shut and blood pouring from his nose.

            Beside him, Clarke looked on. Her expression indicating that she took no pleasure in what was going on, but that it needed to be done.

            When they were done with him, Emerson had looked as if a wagon had pulled him through rough terrain.

            Clarke still looked indifferent as they left the square. Later that hour, he’d heard her breathe deep from the washroom as she excused herself to wash her hands. Either it was relief for her life or she was regaining her bearings.

 

* * *

 

            The stone steps scrapped against his feet as Lincoln went down to the temple. Titus was absent, his attention with the Novitiates, and Anya had commissioned him to check up on Titus’s prisoner in the temple.

            Apparently one of Bellamy’s acquaintances was wanted for robbing people on their way to the Polis markets. Only to have something resembling the Flame in his possession.

            He opened the door, making out that someone was bound to a chair.

            “I already said that I know nothing,” Titus’s prisoner retorted.

            Lincoln had a clearer idea who it was. He was one of those that kept watch on him when he was imprisoned back on the first group’s Dropship. Murphy, wasn’t it?

            “No,” he answered. “I was sent to patch you up.”

            Murphy’s beat up face turned to him, his lips forming into a smirk before chuckling. “Well, isn’t it Octavia’s Grounder boyfriend. You know, you are the last person to become a stooge of these weirdos.”

            Everything about his clan and the entire Coalition would be hard to understand by an outsider. Lincoln himself never understood about the need for violence in his clan. He knew he could have defied his father completely and become a healer but ironically, it would have been wrong to not defend his clan from the Ice Nation.

            Even if there wasn’t the need for war, and peace was a foreign concept here.

            Lincoln set down the healing kit and opened it up.

            “Care to explain the strange murals on the walls?” Murphy asked. “I have no knowledge of this weird religious stuff.”

            Probably referring to the drawing of _Bekka Pramheda_ and the first Nightbloods. The story that started the Coalition and the whole violent tradition of the Conclave.

            “She was the first Commander,” he explained. “Two years after Praimfaya, she landed on the Earth in a pod.”

            Murphy snorted. “So, the first Commander was like one of us,” he retorted. “Ironic given that they wanted to off all of us the moment we first landed.”

            There was no way that the statement was not incorrect. Then again, the tribalism and paranoia didn’t kick in at that point.

            “The Coalition was meant to be a pacifistic union,” Lincoln explained. “A peaceful alliance between the surviving groups until the first Commander and one of the leaders had a fallout.”

            A fallout that spawned a serious of simultaneous wars. Wars that were unnecessary after the Earth had suffered a major depopulation from all those nuclear warheads.

            “I don’t need to be told the ending of that one,” Murphy retorted. “Any chance when I get out of this shithole?”

            Lincoln sighed. Had he had his way, he would. He could take it to both Lexa and Anya. See what they say, even if they won’t listen.

            “I will think of something,” he told him as he put some ointment on his face.

 

* * *

 

            Maps. Building layouts. Handwritten copies of edicts, from recently to then. The boxes smelling of dust as she unrolled papers and rolled them. Anything to distract her from the aftermath of Emerson’s execution.

            He was wrong, Clarke thought to herself. The pain isn’t just beginning. It began after it happened.

            Clarke reanalyzed the map of Ice Nation. Eyeing locations of villages and cities, the population and miles from each other marked with charcoal. Some listed with names of people, the recognizable one being the name of Roan’s father. The village hundreds of miles away from Gara.

            Kattegat, it was called.

            She knew that she and Roan would visit villages for diplomacy. That he had replaced his Nia and hitched himself with _Wanheda_. Word was spread to the villages but she wondered how many Earls would withhold that information from their constituents given her husband’s prior banishment.

            Husband.

            It didn’t hit her when they were announced as monarchs, when they were coroneted. Touching the healing scar on her palm, it did. What the ramifications were. They were married. Bound by blood to not just each other but their clans were bound as well. Ideally, it would have been best had they married for something other then politics but the situation was not ideal.

            She breathed deeply, not restraining herself from curling her lips into a smile. Followed by some chuckling. The kind that is released after keeping all that tension within. Clarke had tons of it stored within her.

            Clarke composed herself after rolling up the map once more. Putting it in the leather case before doing the same with another map. Faintly aware to see someone peering from the door. Looking up to see someone melting away from the side.

            Nymeria possibly?

            The wood faintly creaked under her as she walked towards the door of the Queen’s study. Trying to walk softly and carefully across the floor. She didn’t want to startle her, for Nymeria was timid. Clarke peered out only to see a flash of fabric exiting into another corridor.

            Only to see Ontari exit from that corridor. Carrying a box. Was she gathering Nia’s possessions? If so, why now instead of the past few days, especially right after they arrived here. Ontari locked eyes with her for a few moments before turning her gaze away. Continuing her way.

            Clarke breathed deeply as she closed the door.

            Continuing her task of sifting through papers and putting away maps. Afterwards, she would join Roan for some _granplei_.

            Clarke cleaned and tidied everything before leaving the queen’s study. Locking the door as she heard something from a distance. Something like a piano. Everything tensed up, her cells freezing up as she gasped for breath.

            Last time she heard a piano was at Mount Weather before her escape.

            “This isn’t Mount Weather,” she told herself. “You’re in Ice Nation.”

            She collected herself and walked down the hallway to find the source. Almost towards the direction that Ontari went to. The piano piece slowly becoming louder with each step she took. Eventually leading her towards a set of double doors, open just a crack.

            Quietly, she opened the door wider to see Nymeria. Her back turned to the door as she her fingers moved across the piano keys. Still playing Madama Butterfly. Her lips curl into a smile as she leaned against the door.

            She could stay and watch but it was best to not linger. It was best to warm up to her, for she was still timid around her yet. Was still frightened of her.

            Clarke quietly closed the door and went on her way.

            Keeping her mind from everything that has happened recently.

 

* * *

 

            Their swords met each other as they stood in the training yard behind the palace. The snow falling softly above them as they dueled.

            Clarke was cloaked in an overcoat. Shielding herself from the cold. Concentration etched on her features as the metal of their swords scrapped against each other. The blood pounding in his fingertips as they continued.

            They have been at this for an hour.

            Dimly aware of the audience in the balcony above. Two of his three siblings watching of course. He wished that they have better things to do.

            Roan felt a rush of triumph as he disarmed her. Clarke’s sword falling to the ground. However, that elation did not last long when she grabbed the blade of his sword with both hands. Kicking him in the abdomen, before he felt the handle leave his hand.

            He had only had begun recovering his vision when she sideswiped him. Knocking him to the ground on his back. The tip of his sword nearly touching his nose.

            Clarke had beaten him this time it seems. He raised his hands in defeat.

            “ _The king surrenders, then_ ,” Clarke beamed, withdrawing the sword from him. “ _For a moment, I thought you were going to bring me to the ground with you_.”

            “ _You know, I easily could_ ,” he replied, curling his lips into a smirk. “ _But that would be playing dirty since I had already raised my hands in surrender_.”

            They have been practicing for an hour and this was the first time she’d beat him. She was still raw with some tweaking to do on her skills, yet it was better than the last time they trained together a month ago.

            He could still get her the next round.

            Clarke helped him up from the ground and it was then that he noticed that her hands were bleeding from when she most likely grabbed the blade of his sword. “ _It might be best to bandage your hands before we continue for another round_ ,” he pointed out.

            They returned inside to the training outpost and he retrieved a roll of bandages. Ripping the edge with his teeth and applied paste on the bandage before dressing her first hand. While focusing on his task, he had also turned his attention to Clarke.

            She was biting her lip, her shoulders hunched, and she was swallowing more than necessary.

            “What is going on in that brain of yours?” he prompted.

            Clarke looked up at him. “It’s just that…last time I had made an arrangement to save my people along with Trikru, Lexa took a deal and left me on my own,” she began. “Around the time we put the marriage treaty in motion, a group of my people killed an army of Trikru that were out to protect them. Beating Emerson to death might have quelled up the anger at my people for a time but I’m not sure about the surrounding villages. And Azgeda is still a threat to my people and I don’t know if they knew that the conflict is resolved.”

            That was a problem. If they didn’t get the information, Clarke’s people thought that his clan was still a viable threat. And there will be among those in Ice Nation that may desire to take their anger out on Clarke despite the fact that it was none of their people that got killed. _Skaikru_ wasn’t pretty well liked here.

            And don’t alliances have their risks?

            “Alliances will always have their problems and shortcomings,” he said. “Especially between two former enemies, and that’s when things get shaky and uncertain.”

            Clarke shrugged. “Well, I guess it’s something that I should have expected after getting off on a wrong foot. Though with Azgeda, it might be difficult.”

            “That doesn’t mean that they can’t reach common ground,” he said. “It might take time but we will be civil. It might surprise you but we can capable of it. Loyalty is a trait that is bred into us. Everyone knows that to dishonor a alliance such as this one is considered a dishonor.”

            It was one of the redeemable aspects of his clan. One would rather die than betray their further Azgedakru or ally. Though they had trouble acquiring allies until the Mountain and there might be some that might betray their own and their allies if they thought it were in the best interest of _Azgeda_.

            Though they can be dealt with.

            “At least they won’t be under threat of attack from them,” he chimed in. Clarke chuckled, though her mirth was short lived as was his own smile.

            For _Skaikru_ might see their silence as something to worry about. For most of them probably, his mother was still queen of Ice Nation for all they knew. And he didn’t doubt that they were informed of her attack-period of silence-attack tactics. His mother reveled in the aftermath.

            Clarke and Roan went on for a second round, though he was able to beat her this time around. Her irritation visible on her face after she went down on the cold ground. He had prided himself that while Clarke didn’t fight like a pro, at least she knew enough to survive a sword fight.

            He was hoping to teach her more fancy tricks soon.

            As they had the intention to return back inside and talk about which village to visit for the next week after acquainting themselves more with the city’s populace, Orion, one of those recruited for the king’s guard entered the training ring.

            “ _I apologize if I interrupted anything, your majesties_ ,” he apologetically began, “ _but the Polis emissary is here for a visit_.”


	25. Chapter Twenty Five

Alarm came over him at that development, even if it was to be expected regarding the recent actions of _Skaikru_. And alarm was visible on Clarke’s face, as if she had knew this would happen but hoped that it wouldn’t happen sooner.

            But she was the first to speak. “We’ll be there in a few minutes,” she said urgently. As if it would bug her to keep wondering what it was about then being kept in the dark.

            They both exited the back courtyard. No time to put on the royal sashes and their respective crowns. Not with the urgency within him. Not with the urgency that he could sense from her. He could feel his blood pumping in his fingertips.

            It was now or never.

            The secondary conference room was a few rooms away from the throne hall, if he remembered correctly. Just a simple room with green walls and wooden furniture from his memory. Unlike the main conference room where the council of advisors gather and convene. It was in the second conference room where his mother told him about his banishment As he and Clarke were led in by Orion to the room, it had looked the same from his memory. Yet he couldn’t remove the chills.

            An olive toned woman, her black hair in intricate braids, sat in one of the wooden chairs. Her hands folded before her. Her right eye had a faded iris, with a jagged scar from her forehead to her cheek. In stark comparison with her left amber eye.

            She stood up from her seat. Eyeing them critically, though it was like she wasn’t hiding the disdain for him.

            “ _King Roan, Queen Clarke_ ,” she greeted as she stood up. Her words with a curt edge to them. “ _I hope that I wasn’t interrupting anything important_.”

            “ _No, not all_ ,” Roan answered.

            She held out her hand. “ _I’m Iona of the Delphi_ ,” she introduced. “ _Tasked to go over with you important development from down south_.”

            It was definitely about the massacre of _Trikru_ warriors. Because why else would the Commander’s Polis emissary be here?

            “ _Shall we get started?_ ” he asked.

            “ _Preferably, yes_ ,” she answered curtly.

            Roan and Clarke sat before her on the opposite side of the table. He could sense that Clarke was clenching her hands together into fists.

            “ _Is there anything we can get you?_ ” Clarke asked. “ _I could have someone bring you tea. You had a long journey after all_.”

            Her way of trying to stall whatever came out.

            “ _It’s thoughtful of you, Wanheda_ ,” Iona answered with a curt smile. “ _However that can wait. You two formed a marriage alliance, if I heard correctly_.”

            “ _Yes_ ,” he answered. “ _Given the tensions between Skaikru and Azgeda, we thought it was best to ensure civility_.”

            “ _Have you two had any doubts when you heard about the massacre on the field in Trikru territory?_ ” Iona asked, opening a black leather satchel. “ _The massacre of an army commissioned by Commander Lexa to protect them from a further act of aggression. Seems to me that it proved that Skaikru is incompetent to tell the difference between an army that is sent to attack them and an army sent to protect them_.”

            “ _That was a minor setback_ ”, Clarke hastily answered without a beat. “ _Whoever they were, I’m sure Lexa dealt with them. She wouldn’t let a slaughter of her people go unpunished_.”

            “ _I’m afraid to disappoint you that they have been unpunished_ ,” she answered tersely, pulling out a piece of paper. “ _That the Chancellor and his nine accomplices are alive and well. We have a list of the culprits and their landing origins, all named by a credible source from inside their established settlement in Woods Clan territory_.”

            Clarke ripped out the piece from her hands and it only took moments for the blood to drain from her face. For her hands to shake. She shook her head and pushed the list to him. The top of the list had the name of the new Chancellor. Charles Pike, it was. Next to his name and others, Ice Nation territory was written next to them. With one outstanding exception.

            Bellamy Blake. _Trikru_ Territory.

            There was only one _Belomi kom Skaikru_ that he was acquainted with and that was Clarke’s friend who tried to save her. Given her reaction, chances are that he was the one listed.

            “ _The Commander has sanctioned a trade embargo on Arkadia as a result of the massacre_ ,” Iona informed them. “ _That if they don’t see reason after a week and a half, a blockade will be enforced with a kill order on the population that leaves the perimeter outside their settlement until they hand over their Chancellor and the other nine people involved. Unless you have other options considering your alliance with them_.”

            They would have other ideas. Especially with Clarke who looks like she’s struggling not to lose it. There had to be something without going soft yet only exacted punishment on specifically those that were in Ice Nation.

            “ _Give us a minute_ ,” he said. He took Clarke’s hand and led her out into the room. Across the hall into an empty room across the hall.

            “Bellamy…I thought _…_ ” she trailed off. “There was a friend of ours from that clan in Arkadia last time I knew…”

            “Clarke,” he said.

            “I thought he would have told…I thought Bellamy would have trusted him to,” she continued, her eyes glassy. “…Pike taught me Earth Skills…I owe him…I don’t understand…”

            “Clarke,” he repeated louder.

            She stopped. Her eyes glassy as she looked at him.

            “They are going to expect us to do something about this,” he pointed out. “Out of ten, nine of those names are people that landed here, and people here want their blood in return for the blood that they shed.”

            “I know that,” she said. “It’s just…I can’t wrap my head around it.”

            “Allies have to monitor each other’s behavior,” he said. “To make sure that they fall out of line as well as being civil.”

            “What do you propose?” she demanded. “Hopefully it’s better then what Lexa proposed? She’s literally sentencing my people to die for the second time. I understand her motivation but that shouldn’t always be the endgame if my people don’t cooperate.”

            Clarke was right. A kill order on a minority population was rather asinine.

            “We will have a warrant for nine of the ten,” he said. “That they will be handed over to us if they turn themselves in. And they’ll face justice before those in Gara. Your friend will be spared.”

            “If they don’t?” she asked, a mixture of relief and nervousness on her face.

            “If they don’t after a month, _Trikru_ will take them into custody and send them to here from Polis,” he answered.

            Clarke bit her lip, as if she was debating this over. “Alright,” she said. “It’s not ideal but it’s better than all my people dying.”

            Nine deaths instead of hundreds. That was how things should be done, right?

 

* * *

 

            Iona had written down their request and placed it on her satchel. Clarke didn’t ask her for tea.

            Clarke swallowed after she left. “Roan, if anyone asks about me, tell them that I need to rest,” Clarke informed him. “That I have a headache.”

            “Please, Clarke,” he pleaded, as if he sensed her agony. “If there is anything else I can do –”

            “Not now,” she choked. “Someone has to manage things. I just want to be left alone for now.”

            The blood was pumping in every part of her body and she could hear nothing but the ringing of her ears as she ran to her and Roan’s bedchambers. Slamming the door behind her before collapsing. Landing on the bearskin rug on the floor.

            Sobs shaking her body as she processed what just happened.

            She had sentenced her Earth Skills teacher to die. Sentenced Monty’s mom to die. Agreed to the death sentence of people who probably had normal lives before landing here.

            _That doesn’t mean you can take pleasure in it_ , Roan had told her before they returned to the conference room. _It’s hard for you because they are your people. We shouldn’t take pleasure in punishing our people. That sometimes we have to shelve away any bias if we have to do the right thing_.

            He was right. They don’t need to take pleasure in this. They don’t have to. After all, she agreed to it, right? To show that she can be impartial in this alliance. Had it been anything lighter, Roan’s people would be calling for her blood. That she was weak and had skewed priorities.

            She had sentenced a man to death by being beaten to death. Surely _Wanheda_ would want justice for the warriors and innocent _Azgeda_ killed few months prior.

            Though that was nothing compared to the fact that Bellamy was a part of this.

            Bellamy distrusted Lexa, that she knew. They had gotten on the wrong foot with _Trikru_ when they landed and paranoia and caution on both sides led to a failed peace meeting on the bridge. But surely Bellamy had spent enough time with _Trikru_ in the past three months to see that they were like them. Lincoln knew _Trikru_. He would know that the army was a peacekeeping task force. If he told Bellamy, he should have trusted his word.

            Lincoln was one of the few friends they made on the ground.

            Clarke remembered the last time that she saw Bellamy. When Bellamy looked at her as if he didn’t know her when she stood her ground about staying in Polis. It might confirm it for him if he finds out that she made that warrant.

            Bellamy was one to react on his emotions. His heart overruling his head. She understood why. _Trikru_ had attacked them in the past and probably would do the same if one of the two parties made an irrational decision. But, it wouldn’t have hurt to consult Lincoln.

            Though if Lincoln told him beforehand, it gave a bitter taste in her mouth. If Lincoln told him, he should have trusted his word.

            The door creaked open though Clarke didn’t look back. Her hands clenched in the bearskin furs.

            “ _Is there anything I can get you?_ ” rang Ontari’s voice.

            Ontari. That was surprising. Trying to catch her in a moment of weakness, therefore going back on her promise not to do anything?

            “ _No_ ,” Clarke told her, acid dripping in her tone. “ _Get out_.”

            Nothing.

            She turned to Ontari, who was standing curiously at the door. “ _GET OUT!!!_ ”

            As if she were a mouse, she ran and closed the door.

            Leaving Clarke to drown herself in her anguish.

 

* * *

 

            “Can you tell her no?” Wells asked Monty as they sat in the canteen with their food. He knew that she was his mother, but wanting to force Monty in Pike’s special taskforce?

            “I want to,” Monty stressed, as he took an apple from his tray, “but she’s the Vice Chancellor and my mother. She gets very unpleasant if I don’t do what she asks.”

            “I defied my dad once and it’s how I got down here in the first place,” Wells mentioned, uncomfortably aware of his father talking with someone at a table. Raven with him.

            Burning the Eden Tree. The only crime he could commit without hurting anybody. Just so Clarke won’t die around strangers even if she hated him. Even if they didn’t die, he didn’t regret it.

            “That was to accompany a friend, right?” he asked.

            “Sometimes doing the right thing requires some rebellion,” he pointed out as he noticed Raven joining their table. Just as he saw his father pop something in someone’s mouth.

            “Hello,” she said, her lips curled in that unsettling smile. “Everything well?”

            Her oddly pleasant demeanor sent chills down his spine. This wasn’t natural of Raven.

            “Good,” he answered.

            “You’re…pleasant,” Monty said, raising his eyebrow. As if he knew something was amiss. Anyone that knew Raven knew that something was amiss. Because acting as if everything was tranquil with no pain wasn’t her demeanor.

            “I’m sprucing up the servers tomorrow,” she said, still holding that odd smile. “I was wondering if you can join me so we can chat.”

            He’d be happy too, that is, if his father wasn’t looking at him expectantly and if Raven didn’t sound like she’d expected something to come out of it.

            “I’m sure that would be great,” he said, “but I have other obligations.”

            Her smile disappeared from her face and she slightly zoned out, as if someone was talking to her. It couldn’t get any creepier.

            “Raven, are you okay?” Monty asked her as Harper joined them. The latter looking at her curiously.

            Raven jolted, as if she snapped back to reality. “Yeah, I’m fine, Monty,” she said, frowning as if it was a ludicrous question. She wasn’t fine. It was as if he were some movie like _The Invasion of the Body Snatchers_. Raven turned to him, “It could give you an excuse to escape from everything. Things seem to be going downhill anyway.”

            Wells suppressed a sigh. The entity inside Raven would persuade her to keep persist, no matter how many times he refused. Something had to give, sooner or later.

            “Okay, you win,” he relented.

            “Sweet,” she beamed. “See you then.”

            Raven left the table. With Wells, Monty, and Harper staring after her.

            “Is she okay?” Harper asked. “She’s…too upbeat.”

            That was an understatement.

            “Everything is going downhill,” said Monty. “I didn’t think I’d be saying this but last night, I went to bed hoping that I wake up and I’d be in the cell in Sky Box. That this was all just a nightmare.”

            If Wells could have his way, he’d wake up and see that the first sunrise on the ground. He’d take Clarke hating him all over again then this _Invasion of the Body Snatcher’s_ plot playing out.

 

* * *

 

            Clarke watched from the window the sun dip below the mountains as she sat on the bearskin rug in the room. Where she had been since her meltdown. It was dinnertime, but she wasn’t up to it. Her stomach felt numb.

            She had watched as the snow fell softly from the darkening gray sky. Small flakes and fat puffy snowflakes. All different varieties. Clarke stood from the rug and, her legs feeling like gelatin, she steered herself to one of the frosted windows.

            Her breath visible as she exhaled. Hand shaking, she turned the golden knob of the window and the aged window creaked loudly as she opened the window. Some of the snow blew in and it was like the temperature had dropped slightly, but Clarke closed her eyes for a moment and basked in the snow.

            She remembered the first time she saw it snow. It was before they marched to the Mountain. It was flurries at first, before the wet and heavy flakes came in when they were marching to the Mountain. The snow continuing into as late as midnight perhaps. She remembered her lips curling into a smile as she held her hand out to feel the snow. Lexa’s and Anya’s amused reactions as they processed her reaction to the snow.

            She remembered Octavia cupping the flurries, as if she tried to cement them into reality.

            A doorknob turned. Forcing Clarke out of her reverie and she closed the window shut just before the doors opened. There was Roan. Carrying a tray of what was most likely tonight’s dinner. He probably offered to take it up to her himself rather than someone else do it. 

            “I figured that you were hungry,” he supposed as the doors were closed behind him. There was guilt in his tone and Clarke could tell that he was guilty for not going to comfort her during her emotional breakdown. As if this was his way of making up for his absence. Guilt gnawed at her for refusing his offer. He really wanted to be there with her like he has in the past. 

            Azgeda was different then Blue Cliff. Here, by all appearances, they were a political couple when it was much more then that.

He carried the tray to the nearby table. Arranging it front of the chairs as Clarke stepped forward. Roast, corn, mashed potatoes and a biscuit. There was a jar of jam and cup of something that smelled like tea.

            She was numb to eat and now with the sight of food, she felt her stomach rumble. How she wanted food now. Clarke sat at the table and pulled apart her biscuit. Nice and hot.

            He didn’t say anything as she placed spread the red jam over the first halve of the biscuit. “I understand why you took it hard,” he said. "I would be upset just as you were if my friends pulled something that would ruin our efforts."

            Clarke shrugged. “I shouldn’t be surprised, right?” she pointed out. “As you said, my people see them as savages. This clan and _Trikru_ see them as savages. It goes both ways.”

            He was silent as she picked up her fork and knife to cut the meat. No matter their efforts, her people and the Grounders would find a way to try and kill each other. They would reach civility and then something would happen to disrupt everything.

            It never fails.

            “You took it hard that your friend was among the people that went along with it,” he acknowledged. “I don’t know him that well but from what little I have seen, he strikes me as the impulsive type.”

            Bellamy was and even if he would mean well, Bellamy reacted with his emotions. Though the fact that he would think with his heart is what she admired about him.

             “I mean, I understand…” she trailed off. “We got on a violent start with _Trikru_ and Ice Nation’s attack on Mount Weather must have brought those feelings back, but Lincoln. He would have said something. He is a friend of my people’s.”

            Even if she understood the motivation, he should have trusted Lincoln’s word if he said something about it. And it would have been odd for Lincoln not to say anything. When Lincoln helped her and Wells go through the Reaper tunnels, he told them everything they needed to know about _Trikru’s_ tactics regarding a attack, particularly Tristan’s tactics, who was leading the assault against the Dropship at the time.  That’s what bothered her.

            “If his emotions went before his thoughts, he must have lost someone special there,” he deduced. “It would only make sense.”

            It would but who? Wells, Raven, and Octavia was safe. Octavia was with him. Though she’s been absent for three months from Arkadia. Bellamy probably made a romantic connection during the three months that she was absent.

            “Yes,” she answered. “It would make sense. Even if I understand, it still bothers me.”

            “As they say, time heals all wounds,” Roan tells her. “Next time you see him, the raw emotion should die down.”

            It should but Clarke wonders whether it will keep bothering her or not. Even with Roan's assurance."

            As for Pike’s involvement, she would have to be an idiot for not thinking that it was in reaction to Mount Weather blowing up in the hands of Ice Nation. His retaliatory move never hurt Ice Nation, but whatever lingering distrust that the _Trikru_ had for her people before all this, it only rose up again. He put people at risk, even if he came from an understandable place.

            As for her pushing Roan away, Clarke guessed that this was a side effect of their pretense of being a purely political couple. And she hated that.

            When Clarke went to bed, she should have known that nightmares would come in her deep sleep. They always do. Instead of the Mount Weather horrors that she witnessed every other night, she found herself in a field.

            Where the air was rife with decomposition and bodies littering the ground; blood oozing from bullet holes. Ravens pecking on carcasses and ravens flying around in the sky above the bodies.

            Up ahead in that field of dead, she saw Bellamy from a distance, just like the last time she saw him. Holding an assault rifle. Giving her that look like he no longer remembers her, like the last time she saw him.

            “Bellamy,” she called him urgently, taking a step towards him.

            “Leave, Clarke,” he said. “Go back there. I’m sure they need you more.”

            “Bellamy,” she begged. “You don’t mean that.”

            “Clarke, you are not the girl that I knew,” he professed as he walked forward. “You are not the co-leader that looked after the others. You are not the girl who I helped push the lever at Mount Weather. You are one of the ones that destroyed Mount Weather, Clarke.”

            She shook her head. “I wasn’t a part of it, Bellamy,” she pointed out, her eyes becoming wet with tears. “I was at Polis. You saw me there myself.”

            “Yes, but you took their brands,” he answered with disdain. “You might as well be one of them.”

            He turned back, leaving her standing there. No, he needed to be there and listen to her explain. She took a step forward. “Bellamy, wait,” she whimpered. “Come back. Come back.”

            Something crumbled under her and she found herself falling. Spiraling into darkness until she landed in the Mount Weather Mess Hall. Her blood radiated in her ears as she got up on her feet. Hearing nothing but eerie silence.

            The bodies were gone but the sense of foreboding lingered in the air. Enough to raise the hair on the back of her neck. As she began to run, an earsplitting explosion could be heard behind her and she was enveloped in flames before she could have the chance to escape.

            The contents of the nightmare inducing shivers as she and Roan departed from the palace steps after breakfast. They were to take a visit to the city before lunch. Acquainting themselves with the population.

            She could hear an eerie toon of _Rock-A-Bye-Baby_ and saw two Ice Nation warriors crowd around each other as they stood by a wagon. One holding a red small carousel. Chuckling as if something amused them. “Don’t you three have work to do?” Roan demanded as Echo approached the group. “That furniture can’t unload itself.”

            Clarke could hear Echo say something as the former and Roan enter the carriage. Watching as Echo carried the carousel under her arm.

            Echo looked at her for a second but not with the pure venom that there was. Like resentment mixed with curiosity.

 

* * *

 

            A.L.I.E stood in the background as Raven tinkered with the wires connecting to the servers. Standing still as she stared intently at Wells.

            If Raven knew for certain, it was essential for Wells to join the City of Light. They needed every person they could get and Raven wanted Wells to be one of the first people to recruit.

            “What’s your opinion on what’s going on with Pike?” Wells asked as she was finished with one wire and starting on the next. Ah yes, that massacre. Unpleasant stuff from her memory. Of what she can remember.

            It was fuzzy at best.

            “Unpleasant stuff,” she said as she worked over her project. “I remembered that it happened but I don’t know the specifics.”

            A.L.I.E. tilted her head to the side as she gazed at Wells and Raven saw that he raised his eyebrow in confusion. She didn’t know why he would. She honestly didn’t know the specifics.

            Wells stood up as he walked towards her. “You remember well, Raven,” he claimed. “Remember, you were mad at Bellamy for taking part in it. That his participation gave the Woods Clan another reason why they might wipe us out.”

            That drew a blank at her memory. And not to mention that fuzzy feeling coating her brain rippled at that.

            “Raven,” A.L.I.E. began, “you might want to start now. He’s complicating the process.”

            Raven knew what that meant. Time to offer the Chip. No beating around the bush. She smiled and said, “It doesn’t matter, Wells.” After a while, she said, “I have no pain. Why don’t you join me? You won’t regret it.”

            “Um, I got to check on Jasper,” he said, backing away. “Make sure that he hasn’t hurt himself again.”

            And he ran out the door before Raven could stop him. She frowned as A.L.I.E. walked beside her. “No such luck,” the A.I deduced. “He’ll come around. We’ll just have to recruit others before starting with him again.”

            Raven nodded. One person refusing the Chip was a lot. One person refusing to enter the City of Light was an inconvenience. Everyone needed to take the Chip and Wells shouldn’t be an exception.

            No one should be an exception to taking the Key.

 

* * *

 

            Smoke and burned wood was the recurrent aroma in the marketplace. The streets buzzing with chatter.

            The butcher heating his meat outside.  The clang of the hammer of that of a blacksmith. People loading packages on sleds pulled by _pakstokas_ , reminding Clarke of those Iditarod’s that she saw in only pictures. Women draped in furs and swaddling their babies against their backs.

            Children standing close to their parents, roaming the streets, or running through crowds. Some scattering like mice at the sight of her and Roan. As if they didn’t want to stay too long around them.

            “Their parents taught them not to gawk when it comes to sovereign officials,” Roan explained to her in their ear as guards and Costia followed them. “One boy got beaten for staring at my mother too long.”

            Clarke didn’t say anything but the thought of beating a child just for looking at royalty. Kids are going to stare if something catches their attention. A load of barbarism.

            “ _Good day to you, my king, Wanheda_ ,” one woman greeted them at the street outside a shop that looked like it catered to fabric. Hard faced as if she experienced years of labor. Her stomach slightly swelling from pregnancy. “ _Blessed day that you have returned_.”

            “ _I see that you are still keeping this establishment afloat_ ,” Roan stated.

            “ _No one doesn’t not want wool and fabric_ ,” she said with a smile. She invited them in to view a selection of a variety of fabrics, though Clarke deduced that it was because one has to be receptive to royalty.

            There were a variety of wools and cottons. Some that could be made into shirts, gloves, and socks. Though Clarke wasn’t in the mood for wool and it didn’t help that an audience formed at the windows. Gazing at her like she was the latest new attraction at a zoo.

            Though she selected dyed light blue wool. Mainly because this woman seemed like the person that didn’t like loiterers. Even if she was seeing royalty.

            Clarke stuck with Roan at first before drifting off on her own, with Costia right behind her. Carrying the bundle of wool in her arms. It might be risky to leave the bubble of security that was around Roan, but she couldn't help but be curious about her surroundings. Even if it might risk her life.

There was a fur taxidermy not far from where she was standing and right across from her, some children were peering into the windows of what looked like a carpenter.

            Stepping closely to see a stack of sleds propped beside a wall. Intricately carved and painted. Something that reminded her of little children’s books with sleds such as that. She tried not to crack a smile as she turned back to the area of vending stalls. One was a vendor stall selling trinkets. One that Clarke paid no mind to.

            Until she caught something familiar in the corner of her eye. Only when she stepped towards the vendor, did she was one of the wristbands that she and the rest of the hundred were given before they were sent down to the ground. Nestled between a sculpture of a ballerina with her leg snapped in half and what looked like the back of the clock.

            She picked it up, feeling the cold and smooth metal against her fingers. From what Clarke knew, it probably took a long journey from Woods Clan territory to _Azgeda_. Probably all the wristbands were spread out throughout the Coalition.

            “ _Is there anything I could aid you with, my queen?_ ” the vendor asked when he noticed that she was standing there.

            She could purchase it, though it had its risks. What’s the point of being skittish? She was _Skaikru_ from birth. She’s still _Skaikru_ to others, well, to most others excluding her people. Who would probably see her as one of the Ice Nation.

            “ _How much for it?_ ” she asked.

            “ _Anything of equal value_ ,” he answered.

            Clarke gestured Costia forward and she opened a leather satchel. Trying to ignore the people gathering behind her. Costia was shifting her weight nervously between her legs.

            She dug up what looked like a radio transistor and swallowed as she set it in front of him. “ _Hopefully this will suffice_ ,” she offered, an uneasy feeling collecting in her stomach.

            He picked it up, turned it over, and shrugged. “ _Well, someone could use the metal to patch up their armor_ ,” he supposed.

            A scream was followed by a scuffle before she heard a knife being imbedded into flesh. She quickly turned to see a man convulsing on the ground as a knife imbedded in his chest. Costia standing over him. The bundle of wool on the pavement as the crowd that once formed dissipated.

            “ _Make way for the king_ ,” someone urgently called and Clarke looked up to see Roan emerge from the parting crowd. His eyes on the slain man before looking at Costia, who met his gaze with his.

            “ _He was getting too close for comfort and reaching into his pocket, your majesty_ ,” Costia stated. “ _I couldn’t take any chances_.”

            Clarke could feel the pounding of her heart as she absent mindedly grabbed the wristband. Her eyes locked on his as people resumed their business. Bar two who picked up the man.

            Look see what happened, and then go about their merry way, is the vibe that Clarke got from the reaction. As if they didn’t want to linger too long. As if something like this has happened before.

            “ _People should take this as a warning not to get close to Wanheda if assassination is on their minds_ ,” Roan whispered in her ear as they left the scene. “ _It will only result in death_.”

            An assassination attempt. She remembered when Emerson and another Mountain Man were trying to assassinate her in one of the days leading up to that ill-fated night. Emerson’s friend died while Emerson was taken to then-Camp Jaha.

            Regarding an earlier incident the night before the wedding, it shouldn’t have been a surprise to her that one would attempt to kill her out in public. That some people might be brazen enough to try to kill her.

            She’d like to see some more try before she could kill them herself.

 

* * *

 

            The fact that just one out of the many in public tried to kill her was very telling. That those that expressed interest in assassination were the minority here.

            Good.

            Even if Roan knew that he was surrounded by people that wanted to kill her, wanted him to kill her, or thought that his mother’s options was best, the majority were conditioned for loyalty. That he would have to watch out for a few. For her safety. For Clarke's sake.

            Clarke said nothing as they took the carriage back home. Looking out the window as she ran her fingers across that metal bracelet that she traded for. Probably came down with her when she landed with the first group.

            “I had someone make an attempt on my life before,” she said after moments of silence. “Back before what happened in Mount Weather. They had that very picture that Echo showed you. Circling me and Lexa as targets.”

            “When it comes to the point where people want to assassinate you, you have become an important figure,” he answers. “Important to where you’re considered a threat to what they want to accomplish.”

            Yet, assassination by proxy seemed to be the popular thought. That they would just let him do it if it came to the point where they think that he had no use for her. A day that will never come.

            _Azged_ a don’t betray their own. A King doesn't betray his Queen. A man doesn't betray the woman that he loves.

            The carriage stopped at the front courtyard and Clarke was the first to depart. Hurrying towards the palace doors open the first flurry. Down south, a flurry was meaningless. Up here, a flurry could mean the sign of a storm.

            It always has been.

 

* * *

 

            “ _There is a difference between an army that attacks and an army that protects_ ,” Lagertha stressed as she paced in the west drawing room. A blizzard roaring outside. “ _I get that they were here for only a few months but my goodness. The paranoia_.”

            Clarke was sitting at the chair by the window. Gazing at a map. She said something about learning the city streets on paper. It wouldn’t surprise Roan that she might go to the city unattended.

            Sneak around the streets like a ghost.

            “ _The group that did it landed here_ ,” he explained. “ _Which would explain why their new Chancellor didn’t see the bigger picture about what happened with Mount Weather_.”

            _“Why have an election when emotions are running high?_ ” Lagertha demanded as she slumped into a chair. “ _They could have just waited until everything cooled down. That way they won’t make stupid decisions_.”

            “ _I wonder that too_ ,” Clarke softly said. “ _Even if I understand it, what they did didn’t hurt Azgeda. My old teacher literally signed my people’s death warrant_.”

            “ _You got that right_ ,” Lagertha agreed. “ _Who was Chancellor before this guy?_ ”

            “Does it really matter?” Roan asked his sister. Apparently her interrogations never shied away.

            “ _Their leader is responsible for their elections, right?_ ” Lagertha answered, weaving her fingers together. She turned her gaze to Clarke. “ _Technically, they should have the common sense to postpone things like this. Bad things happen when you vote on your emotions_.”

            Roan turned to Clarke, wondering what she had to say. Watching her swallow hard. “ _Mother probably didn’t want to alarm people_ ,” Clarke answered. “ _I don’t think the Vice Chancellor didn’t want to raise alarm either. Well, she was also a doctor, so her mind was probably on other things_.”

            Lagertha raised her eyebrow. Mental overload from two positions could do it. A clear mind is needed to make decisions regarding one’s own people. Clarke said once that her mother was a healer before he found out that she was also the elected leader. Two strong positions best executed separately.

“ _She couldn’t be a leader and a healer at once_ ,” he pointed out.

            Clarke slightly nodded as if she understood his reasoning. Echo entered the drawing room. Making a beeline for him.

            She bent down to his ear. “ _One of our emissaries from Polis is here, your majesty_ ,” she whispered. “ _She said that it was urgent_.”

            Probably to voice disapproval for his decision or demand a different type of action. Of course, they wouldn’t know yet that he and Clarke decided on the matter. He turned his gaze to Clarke, who was leaning forward in curiosity. 

            “ _Should we make ourselves clear to one of our ambassadors?_ ” he asked her, lifting himself from his seat.

            Clarke left her chair as Echo broadcasted, “ _She specifically wanted you and you only, Roan. Wanheda is as good as dead to her is what I got_.”

            Why was he not surprised? However - 

            “ _By all intents and purposes, Wanheda is Azgeda like the rest of us_ ,” Roan pointed out. “ _The emissaries are called to respect and acknowledge the sitting monarchs and that includes Clarke. Whether they like it or not_.”

            Echo paused before slowly nodded. “ _I understand, your majesty_ ,” she answered. “ _I will inform her that you and the queen are on your way_.”

            Time to face the music.

 

* * *

 

            “I understand that it’s for political purposes, but for some reason…it bothers me,” Bellamy confided in Wells as they sat in his compartment.

            Marriage for politics. Bellamy has read about it in his history books. Two people marrying to unite their nations. There was no romance most of the time and Bellamy obviously knew that Clarke was thinking with her head and that she had no love for this guy…but the idea of her marrying another man for whatever reason seemed…upsetting.

            He couldn’t put a finger on it.

            Wells chuckled. “It could only mean one thing,” Wells explained. “You two have stuck by each other since the day that people ate a hallucinogen.”

            “We both decided that we would need each other to survive,” he explained. Though he remembered wanting to suggest to Clarke that they should just take off together. To forget everybody else. But didn’t work the nerve to. Besides he couldn’t leave Octavia since their relationship was strained because of Lincoln’s torture and his own stupid mouth.

            _Maybe I do_ , he thought. She had obliterated all preconceptions that he had of her when she put the blade in Atom’s neck after he was submerged by the Mountain Men’s acid fog. That she wasn’t the uppity princess that he thought she was. She had proved herself to be the brains behind everything. They had been through so much together. From fighting against the Woods Clan in their first month on the ground to pulling the lever together at Mount Weather.

            Maybe it was more than friends and co-leaders. Maybe he did love her.

            _What about Gina?_ A part of his mind asked him. _She just died and you’re going to linger to another girl who you haven’t seen in months?_

            _Gina would want you to move on_ , another part rationalized. _It wouldn’t bother her if you found love again. No matter the timing_.

            “Maybe I do,” he sighed. “I wish I could tell her.”

            “It might be a longshot, but if you get the chance, maybe you could tell her the next time you see her,” Wells offered. “I would be surprised if she doesn’t feel the same way.”

            Before Bellamy could chew on that, the door burst open and there was Monroe. “There is some development by the gate,” she panted breathlessly. “They don’t know what it is.”

            Tartarus wasn’t going to be freezing over anytime soon, it seemed.

              

           


	26. Chapter Twenty Six

People were gathered by the gate when Bellamy and Monroe ran outside. Mutters rumbling through the crowd.

            “Do you know what it is?” Bellamy asked Harper when he saw her. “ _Trikru_? _Azgeda_?”

            “Nope,” she answered with a shrug. “Just a horse.”

            What was it with Lexa sending horses if she wanted to tell them something? Was she that cowardly? She could actually do it herself if she wanted to. Up ahead, he saw Hannah look at a piece of paper. The blood draining from her face as she read whatever was on there.

            “Alright, alright,” came the Chancellor’s voice as he parted through the crowd. He locked eyes with the Vice Chancellor. “Do you know what is going on, Hannah?”

            Bellamy watched as she looked at him. “That Commander is selling us out to them,” she hissed in disgust. Marching towards him and passing him the paper.

            Pike took the paper and looked over it. His eyes narrowing after reading over. “Special taskforce,” he announced, tossing the paper like it bite him. “Emergency meeting. Right now!”

            Bellamy picked it up, curiosity nagging him. It was a death and arrest warrant. For the Chancellor, Vice Chancellor, and seven members that were involved in the massacre excluding himself. That they had a month to hand themselves over before being taken into custody.

            And it wasn’t long before he saw the words _King Roan and Queen Clarke of Ice Nation_ right at the top.

 

* * *

 

            When Clarke and Roan, donned in their respective crowns and sashes, strode into the throne hall, Clarke could see immediate awareness in their visitor’s face. The emissary crinkling her nose in disgust as she regarded her.

            _This is going to go so well_ , she thought.

            “ _When I said I demanded a conversation, I specifically asked for only you_ ,” she hissed. She jerked her head towards Clarke. “ _I didn’t want to have an audience with that Skaikru scum_.”

            She clenched her fists as she stepped towards her. No, she can’t allow that. “ _You ask for the king, you get Wanheda too_ ,” Clarke pointed out to her. “ _It’s a package deal_.”

            “ _You want to deal with me, you’re going to deal with her too_ ,” Roan pointed out. “ _You can’t ignore the queen and demand an audience with the king only. And your name is…?_ ”

            “ _Mera_ ,” she answered, her face flushed. “ _Just because you forced her upon us, that doesn’t mean that I’ll accept it. And just because she speaks our language and bears our mark, that doesn’t mean that she isn’t one of us_.”

            “ _Get to the point about why you are here_ ,” Roan demanded and Clarke could hear the impatience in his voice.

            “ _I suppose that you heard about that massacre in Woods Clan territory_ ,” she said. “ _Maybe you should reconsider your decision to bind your clan with theirs_.”

            “ _We’re going to handle it_ ,” Clarke answered, lifting to her chin to give the aura of superiority. That Wanheda shouldn’t back down. “ _I arranged for a arrest warrant for the perpetrators of the massacre for their crimes against Ice Nation_.”

            Mera shook her head. “ _And you expect us to believe that you will follow through?_ ” she demanded. Turning to Roan, she demanded, “ _She’s going to change her mind and let them off scot free_.”

            “ _One of her teachers was one of the perpetrators_ ,” Roan pointed out. “ _It wasn’t a easy decision for her to make but she agreed it for our alliance_.”

            “ _Hogwash_ ,” she demanded. “ _I never thought that you would stoop so low for this treason_.”

            Clarke felt for her knife in her pocket. This emissary was basically accusing Roan of treason. She knew where this was going. And it looked like that this woman was reaching for a knife.

            The blood pounded in her ears as she imbedded her knife in Mera’s clavicle. Her ears were ringing that was dimly aware that Roan had imbedded his knife in Mera’s stomach. Watching as shock took hold on the woman’s eyes before the light completely left them.

            The blood continued to pound on her ears as she watched her body slump to the floor. Blood pooling under her.

            Clarke could hear her own heavy breathing as she felt his hand on her shoulder. “ _Are you okay?_ ”

            She swallowed. Two assassination attempts in one day. That had to be a record since the one made by the Mountain Men. “ _I will be when my head clears_ ,” she rasped as she heard doors open.

            “ _What happened?_ ” Seiku demanded.

            “ _Turns out this emissary was considering assassination as a means for Azgeda’s interests_ ,” Roan answered. He said louder. “ _Use her as a message to Polis and the city. That death will befall if they ever try an similar stunt_.”

            He didn’t say what but Clarke guessed that it would be gruesome. That it would be something to drive a point. As if dismemberment was going to be involved.

 

* * *

 

            Blood wasn’t on her hands but she felt the need to wash her hands in the basin. Rinse them in water. She had helped kill someone. Self-defense as it seemed that she was planning on killing both her and Roan.

            Clarke took a deep breath as she wiped her face with her hands. Her face tingling as she touched the brands. She gazed at her reflection, shaking her head. No matter what she would do to be like them – have her face branded and speaking their language – there would be some that would hate her.

            See her as an eyesore that needed to be killed.

            The door creaked open and she didn’t need to see who it was. “Please tell me that this affirms that my presence strengthens you.”

            It was as if things couldn’t get any worse.

            His feet echoed across the floor and she could feel his hand on her shoulder. Clarke squeezed it and nuzzled her face into his hand.

            “It reaffirms both of our strengths, Clarke,” he answered. “Not just mine. Also, it proves that you are valuable to me alive then dead.”

            Clarke turned to him and wrapped her arms around him. Burying her nose into his shoulder as the tears began flowing. “I don’t want this,” she rasped as his hands ran through her hair. “I wish we don’t have to do any of this.”

            “Me either, Clarke,” he whispered in her ear. “Me either.”

 

* * *

 

            “Very interesting that they would care about the lives of a rival clan,” Hannah spoke at the table. “Given the stories of infighting that we hear.”

            “They don’t care,” Pike pointed out. “These people would find any excuse for this. They are not like you and I. They have no sense of rationality.”

            Bellamy gazed at the notice. Looking at Clarke’s name and seeing her grouped with the king. She was _Klark kom Azgeda_ now? Is that what they were placing her with…? Why…

            But she excluded him. She didn’t list him. The king probably wanted all their heads and he could imagine her begging for his life like she did in the train station. It’s an image that he could see very clearly.

            Bryan took the list. “They didn’t get all the names,” he said. “There were ten in that field and on here are nine.”

            “All those that landed in Ice Nation territory,” Pike premised. “I wonder how they knew.”

            “It’s simple,” said Monty. “Someone from here had to contact the Grounders.”

            “Kane,” Gilmer said. “He’s awfully Grounder friendly. He would throw us under the bus to bend over backwards for those savages.”

            Bellamy could feel that assignment from Pike coming soon. That he would have to spy on Kane.

            “I’ll look into that,” Pike promised. “Furthermore, the name Clarke seems familiar. It might be coincidental that this isn’t the same person but there are a few factors that are suspect.”

            “Maybe the king had a girlfriend back home and she happened to have the same name,” Bryan pitched in. “Besides, it seemed that they are only going after those that landed in Ice Nation.”

            “I doubt that they would execute someone that didn’t cause them problems,” Bellamy added. Hoping for the suspicion on her to decrease.

            “Mount Weather showed us that Ice Nation doesn’t give a damn about where we landed,” Pike said. “To them, we are an infestation. Expendable.” Pike turned to him. “You stowed away on the Dropship to the ground and whatever happened between you two, she excluded you from the list.”

            Bellamy swallowed. Here it comes.

            “This might be hard for some of you but since the odds are high that this Queen Clarke is Clarke Griffin, I have no choice but to declare her a traitor to Arkadia,” he announced.

            “Just because the odds are high, that doesn’t mean that it could be her,” Bellamy tried to explain. “I’m sure that this could have been anyone.”

            “I understand your need to vouch for her,” Pike countered, “unfortunately, the odds that it’s her is high. Pacifying the Ice Nation and wanting one life spared out of ten to avoid their wrath is still considered treason.”

            Bellamy nodded. An ill feeling forming at the pit of his stomach.

            “Tell the Guard that if they see Clarke Griffin step into Arkadia, arrest her on the spot,” he ordered. “If you shoot, don’t shoot to kill. We want her alive.”

            “Pike, she’s literally one of them now,” Gilmer spat out. “It wouldn’t make a difference between killing her and killing those savages.”

            “We will give her a chance to renounce her treason,” he explained. “I have no doubts that she would. It will pain me if she didn’t.”

            Bellamy stayed as the others left the room. Feeling as if someone gutted him.

            “It’s not an easy choice I had to make,” Pike told him. “She was one of my best students. Sometimes, one has to put bias aside for the safety of one’s own people.”

            Bellamy wanted to say that Clarke was doing this out of political civility. To avoid another Mount Weather but Pike seemed to have his mind made up. He would still call it treason. That joining hands with the enemy for whatever reason was still treason.

            So, he nodded. “Yes, sir,” he answered.

            “As for the subject of Kane…” Pike started. “If he’s doing anything to betray his people, I have to know.”

            Bellamy was initially reluctant to take Kane’s assignment. Though Clarke being categorized as a traitor is what will motivate him.

 

* * *

 

            Two assassination attempts in a span of a few hours. First on Clarke. The second one on the both of them it seemed. It was gruesome but he had Mera’s head to the embassy in Polis as warning. Her body, well, his people were desensitized to the sight of headless bodies in the square. Especially of those that betrayed the crown.

            Gruesome but efficient.

            He turned his head towards the direction of footsteps. Seeing that it was Echo. Clarke had closed herself up in his mother’s old study. Said that she was reexamining edicts and such. Probably determining which one to peel away the first layer of first. Most likely to organize her thoughts.

            He wished that he could be with her, even if she said that she preferred to do it alone. It was bad enough that he didn’t comfort her the previous day during her meltdown. It was as if this pretense of “pure politics” was going to put a strain on their relationship.

            “There was a reason why she wanted to see only you, Roan,” Echo said.

            He snorted. For all he knew, the ambassador was probably hoping to kill him without Wanheda there. Though he would have killed her anyway without Clarke’s help. “Even without Clarke with me, she would have tried to assassinate me regardless. She reckoned me a traitor for establishing political stability.”

            Echo paused for a moment. “Some in the Guard and some in the populace think you are,” she expressed, her hesitation of such words evident in her tones. “This morning, I overheard them speaking about how they might attempt to kill you or Wanheda without getting caught.”

            “Who are their names?” Roan asked.

            He didn’t need to do this. He didn’t want to do this. But if people were threatening Clarke’s safety as well as his own…

            “Roan, they are just angry,” Echo rationalized. “If you give them some time…”

            “Echo, Clarke was almost killed on the street this morning and one of our ambassadors tried to kill me, maybe her as well,” he pointed out. “Even if they were speaking out of emotion, I can’t take the risk of them attempting it. It’s just as bad as the action itself.”

            Echo swallowed. “Korri, Albion, Taliesin, Boden…” and she listed three more.

            “Send them to me immediately,” he commanded. He wasn’t going to take any more chances today. Not this week. If anything, it would decrease the number of assassination attempts and act as a deterrent.

            The more people that would be scared of killing Clarke, the best it would be for her longevity here. For her wellbeing, even.

            The subjects were there went he entered the throne hall. All of them seemingly surprised that they were there. Picking their nails. Probably baffled that they got caught in the first place. He could lock them up as a deterrent but letting them live would be risky.

            Roan gritted his teeth as he pulled out his sword and moments later after they were dead, he wiped it clean. As the palace attendants scrambled to remove the bodies and clean the floor, which was already baring the marks of blood stains that had been scrubbed clean.

            It was unpleasant to think about it, even if it had to be done. Less than a week and twelve people were already dead. One of which should have died with his fellow parasites months ago. With Clarke in tow, it was predictable. People were going to try to take both their lives under the illusion that they were doing what was best for Ice Nation.

            Twelve people in less than a week. More than his mother’s weekly death toll, which was usually five. If anything, it would prove that Wanheda was a powerful force after all. That she was more useful alive.

            Though to Roan, keeping his wife and lover alive was a high priority. If she died, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself.

 

* * *

 

            He knocked three times on the wooden door of the queen’s study.

            “Come in,” Clarke promptly encouraged.

            Roan turned the doorknob and saw her sitting on the chair with her feet over the desk. Which was covered with papers. Maps and edicts. She was definitely a busy bee. That lovely face of hers etched in concentration.

            “Someone has been a busy bee,” he acknowledged as he closed the door behind him.

            “One would if they are going over two hundred years’ worth of edicts, maps, and degrees,” his wife stressed, rolling up one of the maps. “I can’t make myself look like a idiot in front of all Azgeda. I was thinking that we should free the enslaved prisoners from outside of Ice Nation as we discussed. Then we can lighten the punishments for misdemeanors.”

            The punishment for stealing a loaf of bread or food was punishable by caning at the hand of the merchant. Enslavement if the merchant wasn’t up to doing it. It didn’t help that it wasn’t excluded to children. The parents should have the authority to discipline their child. Adults, well, the pillory was an uncomfortable but better alternative.

            “Not bad,” he agreed. “Not too bad at all.”

            The punishment should fit the crime, right? That was the most pragmatic thing to do.

            Roan stepped closer as Clarke took out parchment and a piece of charcoal. Writing down her edification.

            “Today was rather…eventful,” he mustered.

            She shrugged. “I guess that’s what we get for binding our clans together,” she said. “After all, there would be those that want to kill us.”

            “Being in charge of everything comes with that risk,” he noted. He swallowed, wondering how he was going to go about this. “Because of today, I couldn’t take any chances. Not after Echo reported talks of sedition and treason among seven members of the Royal Guard.”

            The charcoal that she was holding snapped in half as she gazed at him. “You purged them?”

            “As I said, I couldn’t take the risk,” he maintained. “Speaking about assassination is just as bad as doing it, regardless whether out of emotion or not. I did it for you and for two of our clans. We die and both clans will have their way with each other.”

            “I…” she said, shaking her head. “Twelve people in less than a week. It’s…you don’t have to kill people for me, Roan. I won’t allow that!”

            “Sometimes we have to do things that we don’t like to protect our people and our loved ones,” he pointed out. He drew forward to her and clasped her hand. “I’d rather die than let anyone kill you, Clarke. I can’t lose you.”

           

* * *

 

            Wanheda. Commander of Death. The destroyer of worlds.

            Everything that she seemed to touch, people died. Even if she didn’t kill them out of self-defense or a strategic plan, people would kill others to protect their or other people’s interests involving her. Roan’s brother had killed an advisor and an assassin to protect Roan’s interests.  Costia killed a person today because it was obvious that he was going to kill Clarke and Roan killed seven guardsmen for talking about assassination.

            Twelve deaths in less than a week. It shouldn’t be that bad. She had killed groups of hundreds, each in one day. One was in a time of battle, the other because Cage Wallace gave her literally no choice to kill his people to save her own three months ago. For some reason, the way Roan went about it, twelve deaths in a week was like a record.

            As if she had killed more people than his mother during a weeks’ span even.

            She didn’t want him to kill for her, but the fact that he would rather die than let her get killed…it was a verbal testament of his love to her.

            After her conversation with Roan, Clarke cleaned up her desk and decided to go to the bedchambers to retrieve her sketchbook when she passed by Nymeria’s room. The door was open a crack and she could see her outlining something on a canvas. That portrait of the wolf finished.

            Clarke bit her lip as she considered her options. Clarke vowed to wait until she warmed up to her, yet it might not hurt to share that they have something in common. She quietly opened the door further.

            “I draw from time to time, when I have some extra time on my hands,” she shared. Nymeria jumped in her stool. Dropping the charcoal that was in her fingers as she cast her wide eyes on her.

            “Hey, it’s okay,” Clarke tried to assure her. Palms up to indicate she has nothing in her hand.

            Nymeria scrambled to get her charcoal from the floor and resumed her task as Clarke stepped towards the collection of paintings leaning against the wall. “You do really well on these paintings,” Clarke commented. “I can sketch and use coloring pencils but I never can paint.”

            It’s the truth. Clarke tried her hand on painting in the Ark but her portraits ended up as meaningless blobs that didn’t make sense. She stuck with sketching and using coloring pencils.

            “Your paintings look like Thomas Kinkade could have painted them,” Clarke continued.

            “I have a book of his paintings,” Nymeria softly murmured, “along with books about other painters before Praimfaya. Mother said I was filling my head with rubbish. That I was wasting my time instead of making myself useful.”

            Nia was probably upset that Nymeria didn’t grow how she wanted her to. As if she was trying to put a round peg in a square one and was frustrated why it didn’t work. Clarke took a chair and sat on it.

            “She was wrong,” Clarke said to her. “You are not wasting your time painting and drawing. It’s wonderful hobby to spend your time with. We all need that visual escape from the horrors of life once in a while. There was a rough period moment of my life where I did nothing but sketch. I would imagine myself in them. They were my escape.”

            Nymeria’s lips curl into a small smile. “I would imagine escaping into my own paintings as well. Especially when mother was alive,” she mused. “That I was far away from here.”

            “Whatever your mother has told you, she’s wrong,” Clarke pointed out. “Your interests don’t make you weak. Refusing to fight and focusing on your interests is another form of strength. It doesn’t make you weak.”

            “Roan would tell me that,” she said. “Sure, I have Aspen and Lagertha but he was the only one I could be myself with.”

            “He wasn’t wrong,” Clarke pointed out. “Your brother is a good man. He helped me understand things that I never have before.”

            Nymeria looked around her room and asked her, “Which one of my paintings do you like the best?”

            “The one you did recently about the wolf caught my attention,” Clarke answered.

            “Wolves are considered noble here,” she pointed out. “It’s said that a wolf helped guide the first king to his final destination.”

            Clarke could sense Roan at the door. Looking to see him crack a smile before drifting away. For what it was worth, he probably would sleep well knowing that his sister was warning up to her.

            Clarke could say that Wanheda has a merciful side to her. A gentle side that could be unlocked if you make the steps to friendship.

 

* * *

 

            The images that flashed before her that night were a collage of horrifying events. Watching her father fly from the airlock, the aftermath of Finn’s massacre, TonDC missile pushing her and her mother to the ground, the gruesome aftermath in Mount Weather before it’s destruction, the bloody death of Farrel by her hands and everything leading up to today’s gruesome deaths.

            Clarke shivered and wrapped her body around with a cloak. She glanced to see that Roan was still asleep as she left the bed. She didn’t want to disturb him. Pushing moccasins in her feet. The idea of walking it off was risky considering the two assassination attempts but maybe that was best.

            She walked around the corridors of the sovereign wing and walked down a hallway adjacent to it. The howling wind could be heard from the outside. She thought she could hear a wolf howl in a distance.

            She passed by a door only to notice later that it was open a crack and a fire cracking. Curious to see who was up and why, she opened the door. Only to see Ontari, her black hair in a braid, gazing at the fireplace as she sat on a chair.

            She turned her gaze to Clarke a few seconds later. “So, the great Wanheda can’t sleep either, it seems,” Ontari deduced.

            What nightmares were plaguing her at night? However it shouldn’t surprise her given what Roan told her about Ontari. “Yeah,” Clarke answered with a nod. “One thing more prominent then the other every other night.”

            “For me it’s the same thing,” Ontari replied as Clarke cautiously took a step into the room. “Almost every night. It’s a village by a lakeshore, the cabins burning, and people’s heads on sticks…” she drifts away from her words. “It’s like I’m in the body of a child and I am screaming for a woman that slightly resembles me. Her screams are undecipherable but…” she shudders, “they get me every time.”

            Sometimes, buried memories from early childhoods come back as nightmares, she heard. Clarke shouldn’t be surprised that it would be true.

            “Roan told me that you were taken from a village and brought here,” Clarke said. “That you were so traumatized when you were brought here.”

            Ontari scoffed. “Nia said that the people there were going to kill me for my blood,” she bit back. “That she had saved me. That it was why she wanted to keep me with her at all times.”

            “She would lie to justify what she was doing,” Clarke pointed out. “You were five and at that age, it would be easy for her to groom you.”

            “It shouldn’t surprise me that you got this information from Roan,” Ontari said. “He and his mother were not on the best of terms. Before he left, it was like he was a circling hawk over me. Quite irritating really.”

            There was no way she was going to convince Ontari that Nia had brainwashed her and groomed her to be a puppet Commander. It was as if she had it set in her head that everything she was fed was true. The damage that Nia put on her was great.

 

* * *

 

            Abby saw it coming when Kane said that Pike had issued an arrest warrant on Clarke for high treason. It was confirmed when Pike entered the medical bay as she prepped the tray of medicine for the interned _Trikru_ in the stockade.

            “You seem busy,” he mused as she filled the last cup.

            “Yes,” she answered. “I have to make sure to give them the right dosage. Effective but not too strong. Their bodies are not used to modern medicine.”

            He paused before replying, “I know that you mean well but are you afraid that it might strain resources? Some of our people could use that medicine. I’m sure you have herbs that you could use if their bodies are not used to twenty-first century medicine.”

            “We have run out of herbal seeds before the massacre,” she stressed, irritated by his attempt at small talk. “Tell me why you’re really here, Chancellor, instead of beating around the bush.”

            “Abby, you should know that it wasn’t an easy decision for me to make,” Pike started. “Clarke was a brilliant student of mine. Very bright. Hopefully smart enough to renounce her treason. Surely, you were aware when she made that decision to join the Ice Nation.”

            Abby had burned the letter when it became apparent that someone went in room. If Pike sent one of his people to her room, it wouldn’t surprise her. Pike seemed to be watching Kane just as Kane kept tabs on Nygel back on the Ark.

            “To be honest, I didn’t know until last night when Hannah brought it to my attention,” she lied, remembering the sympathy in Hannah’s tone when she told her about her daughter joining those “scarred savages.” “I only saw her that one day when Mount Weather was destroyed. She wasn’t with us for three months before then.”

            Her heart pumped in her chest as she checked Pike’s face to make sure that he didn’t see that she was lying. Pike may be irrational at times but he was no idiot.

            Pike nodded. “I see that it’s hard for you to accept,” he said. “Hard for all of us to accept. Clarke was one of the driving forces that kept those kids alive in their first month on the ground.”

            Abby nodded. Right before Clarke went down to Earth, she had told her that her instincts to look after others would kick in. How she was an idiot to think that she could shield Clarke when she reunited with her.

            “Pike, can you promise me to let me see her if she comes back?” Abby asked.

            “You have my word,” he answered with a nod.

            Though Abby feared that if Clarke did come back, some of Pike’s people would shoot to kill her. That she would be only be able to look at her daughter’s corpse.

 

* * *

 

            Not applying the punishment of enslavement towards outsiders belonging to other clans was the first edict gone through the next morning. They weren’t in war with those clans anymore, so there was no logic to keep them here.

            Not to mention that they lightened the load on misdemeanors, leaving the discipline to the parents if it was a child committing the act. Though –

            “What if their parents can’t discipline them?” Ealhswith demanded. “They have to be punished somehow.”

            “They work for it for day,” Clarke answered. “The workload that is expected for their age.”

            Of course Clarke would find an answer for it. She always did with everything. He didn’t know whether he found it irritating or admiring. It would be a lie to say that he wasn’t drawn to her brains.

            The notices regarding the changes were being plastered around the square that morning.

            Clarke was curled up in a chair in his office. Having taken his fifth great grandfather journal from his crypt to read it for a few hours. (“I need to further bone up my history,” she explained. “There are plenty of things about the founding that I feel like they would expect me to know.”). And he was looking over the map of _Azgeda_ ’s thousand and twenty-five miles and the map of Kattegat, his father’s home village.

            It would be logical to go there next. The Earl that is commanding the village at the moment was a friend of his father since childhood. Yet, he didn’t know how far her loyalty to his mother went. The same being spoken for any Earl.

            There was that risk but what use would there be avoiding it?

            “According to here, he wanted _Trikru_ territory for their cotton,” Clarke said. “And I could see that it did not go down well.”

            It didn’t. It was bloody according to the records. “Trikru had a small army,” Roan began. “They didn’t seem to have spines in the first decade. The clan’s founder was forced to train half the population in war after half of her army was wiped out. Even after that, they were said to be rather trusting in those that weren’t Azgeda for a half a century. And the Mountain put them on guard.”

            The wartime logs said it all. It went from the flavor of “trusting and spineless” to “distrusting of strangers and ruthless.” Some clans changed overtime and some didn’t. Floukru was still a pacifist clan since the beginning but that was because they are located on what was once a oil rig. Where it was easier to not get involved.

            “They probably felt like they couldn’t trust anyone after that,” Clarke deduced. “As if they didn’t want to be screwed over again.”

            “And with what happened with _Skaikru_ recently, that massacre probably all but confirmed it for them,” Roan deduced.

            Clarke paused, as if considering his words. “It doesn’t help that it was done in response to what happened in Mount Weather recently,” she said. “Your mother is dead. The last Mountain Men is dead. They don’t know that the problem has been dealt with.”

            If there was one indication, ignorance wasn’t bliss. People don’t know what is going behind the scenes, often, and they often trust their own judgment. It’s an easy trap to fall into. Something that no one is immune to. Not even himself.


	27. Chapter Twenty Seven

Clarke had retrieved the journal from King William’s crypt and returned to the west drawing room. Carefully setting it down on a table before carefully opening it. It had been nearly a week since she and Roan were married and made into _Azgeda’s_ monarchs.

            And a lot had happened in a week, she had heard. The most notable being a development from Arkadia. And that Pike had issued a warrant for her arrest if she were to ever step foot into Arkadia for charges of high treason. That they figured out that she and this Queen Clarke were the same. Perhaps her leaving Bellamy out of the arrest and death warrant was what gave her away.

            For most likely, someone of _Azgeda_ birth wouldn’t have cared if he landed in _Trikru_ territory or not. It just would have mattered that he was from the sky.

            “A side effect of war,” Roan explained to her. “It’s understandable of course. Ice Nation killed almost fifty of your people and they would see this as you throwing them under the bus rather than a move for political stability.”

            It didn’t help that he was most likely right. Her people hate her probably if they want try her for high treason. They most likely disowned her and written her off as Ice Nation. Her friends probably hate her even more than ever now, especially Monty because his mother was on that list.

            And it would have only proved to Bellamy that she wasn’t the person he knew before. That the Clarke he knew had died. That she was replaced with another Clarke from Ice Nation.

            She swallowed as she resumed her task and drifted away from her thoughts. Inside King William’s journal, there were sketches alongside his entries. Maps and illustrated rooms. Clarke didn’t read his journal chronologically. Just an entry here and there to understand the founding better.

            It was best to understand their roots or else she would appear like a complete idiot.

            “ _You might want to be careful with that_ ,” she heard Aspen say. “ _People are not allowed to take things from the crypts of the monarchs before_.”

            “ _Well, the guards protecting the first king’s crypt didn’t stop me from taking it out before_ ,” she pointed out, agitation in her tone. Hoping that this was just one of his games that he plays from time to time.

            “ _Nope, just giving you a hard time_ ,” he answered with jest.

            Clarke muttered under her breath. It was like he was trying to see what made the great _Wanheda_ tick. As if he was purposely trying to get her riled up so that he could brag about cheating death.

            “ _You know, you’re lucky that I’m not going to slice your throat for this_ ,” she pointed out. “ _Had Wanheda been anybody else, you be dead_.”

            That didn’t faze him. He grinned and chuckled. “ _You know, I could see why my brother has such a fancy for you_ ,” he chuckled. “ _You’re cute when you’re angry_.”

            “ _Next time you say that, I’ll castrate you_ ,” she threatened. She watched as the blood drained from his face. Hit them where it hurts, they said and threatening someone’s manhood would do the trick.

            “Um, I’ll leave you alone, I guess,” he said before stepping out of the drawing room. Clarke smiled to herself as she turned back to the journal. Sometimes being  _Wanheda_ did have its perks.

           

* * *

 

“ _Kattegat is no Gara, though I am it will resonate_ ,” Echo said as he looked at a series of revisions of edicts. Clarke’s sketches mingled along with them. “ _It was the birth place of your father, so I’m certain that the reception will be nothing to worry about_.”

            He and Clarke were due to travel to the village of his father’s birth the next day. Where they would be expecting to stay the next two days before returning back to Gara. After that was Birka.

            Villages would have to take some convincing. Gara was easy. People were conditioned to obey directly under the monarchs even if they didn’t like it. Villages were run by Earls who answered under the monarchs.

            There was no telling what they told their people.

            “ _If there is any difficulty, whoever leads the village will experience the power of Wanheda first hand_ ,” he answered. Setting his papers aside. As unpleasant as it was, he couldn’t appear weak. Neither could Clarke.

            Especially Clarke.

            “ _I am certain that they probably got the message after the deaths of twelve people last week_ ,” Echo surmised before looking down at his desk. Shit.

            He didn’t have time to gather his papers when Echo picked one of Clarke’s drawings. Watching with apprehension as she looked it over. “ _I must say, Roan, whoever drew this has a good eye for detail. They were very close regarding the Falls_.”

            He swallowed. Don’t be stupid, Roan, he told himself. You’re a king. Not some kid. “ _Wanheda does have a good hand in drawing_ ,” Roan commented. “ _Her artistic talent knows no bounds_.”

            Echo looked up him with wide eyes at that reveal. “ _Oh_ ,” she said loftily. “ _Seems like death isn’t just her specialty_.”

            “ _Even legends like her have to have some sort of a hobby_ ,” he mused.

            She set it down and turned her attention to the one that was folded. Heart picking up pace, he snatched it from her hands just after she unfolded it.

            “ _Don’t act as if I hadn’t seen you like that before_ ,” she teased.

            “ _That was five years ago_ ,” he grumbled as he placed the drawing in his vest. “ _Things change_.”

            Her smile of amusement changed a frown. “ _When did she draw it?_ ” she asked. “ _Your hair isn’t as long_.”

            Roan sighed. She wasn’t going to let this go. “ _She drew my sleeping form a couple of months ago. Back in Blue Cliff territory_.”

            “ _Back…so you two have crossed paths before?_ ” she demanded. “ _Is that why you were so adamant to speak on her behalf?_ ”

            Someone knocks on the door before he could think of a reply. “ _Come in_ ,” he answered, relieved to have something that would get him out of this discussion. Roan wasn’t ready to discuss the romantic aspect of his relationship with Clarke.

            The door opened and Costia enters. Hands clasped together as she approached Echo. Reaching up and whispering something into her ear. In his first week, he had noticed that those two had become closer then friends. He heard that Echo had been sleeping in Costia’s quarters instead of the one given to the Head of the Royal Guard.

            Echo turned back to him. “ _I apologize, sire, but it seems that my attention is called elsewhere_ ,” she said. Echo touched Costia’s shoulder, the latter kissing her hand before the former walked away from the room.

            “ _You two have gotten close_ ,” he observed.

            Costia turned towards him. “ _She kept my sanity for the past five years_ ,” Costia answered. “ _She doesn’t replace Lexa but I love her just the same_.”

 

* * *

 

 

Murphy rubbed his wrists as he was led out the dungeon of horrors where he was kept for a week. Turns out the Commander in charge thought that enough was enough and had sent someone to call it quits.

            Apparently, some Grounder named Anya called it quits. Told his torturer, Titus, to stop. Murphy couldn’t understand a damn word that they said to each other, but he could guess it was it. Because of the agitation on his face and the persistent frown on hers.

            In any case, whatever this Commander wanted, he knew what he was going to say. Murphy wasn’t going to implicate Emori in any of this. That it was him and him alone that knows about the chip. That he was the only one that robbed those people. Even if eye witness accounts were different from his claims.

            And this Commander was waiting for him in the fiftieth floor. Sitting on a wooden throne as if it were composed of twigs and branches from trees. Positioned cross legged as she eyed him sternly.

            Titus said something and the Commander nodded. Saying a few words, which prompted his companions to leave.

            The Commander stood from her throne. “So, you’re the thief that robbed from people on their way to the markets?” she asked as she stepped down the dais.

            “Yeah, I’m the guy,” he remarked.

            “Titus said that you were in possession of something that had some value,” she said. “Something of sacred significance.”

            Murphy snorted. “I don’t know what’s so special about a corporate logo,” he said. “Even if it’s tied to the first Commander.”

            “The infinity logo is used to represent the Commander’s everlasting spirit,” she explained. “It has been around before the bombs but symbols can change meaning overtime.”

            He blew air into his cheeks. She got that right.

            “Ever since the bombs, it’s been passed down that the First Commander’s first creation started the bombs. A.L.I.E, she was named,” she proposed. “The only explanation about why you would get a hand on something similar to the Flame is if you or someone you know had contact with the first creation.”

            “Where should I begin?” he asked. He had told some information to Titus right before Anya barged in and demanded his release. Perhaps this Commander might not be hard to speak with.

 

* * *

 

             “ _…and there have been problems down south for the past few months_ ,” stressed Earl Grissom from one of the villages north of the _Trikru_ border. Pacing the floor. “ _Some of the farmers in that area reported problems growing crops this year_.”

            One of the things she could have expected. People bringing their problems to the monarchy. If anything, it wasn’t like she was sanctioning someone’s execution or killing someone out of self-defense.

            “ _Maybe this is a hard year for you_ ,” she proposed.

            “ _This has been an ongoing problem_ ,” he said. “ _Farmers have their hard years but nothing as bad as this. Not with soil becoming useless by the month_.”

            Soil becoming useless. If she didn’t know any better, that would have raised a dozen red flags. As if the planet was dying from the radiation.

            “ _Have they tried any resourceful methods to grow their crops?_ ” Roan asked. Tapping his fingers against the armrest of his throne.

            “ _We have tried our greenhouses and using horse manure for fertilizer but that has given us little to no results_ ,” the Earl complained.

            “ _We could send one of our top botanists to your village_ ,” Roan suggested. “ _Trina is a master at figuring out problems with soil, last time I knew. It might not be enough but it’s better than nothing_.”

            A grateful smile breaks upon the Earl’s face. “ _The village of Dorestad thanks the king and queen for their generosity_ ,” he thanks as he bows.

            Helmut sees him out and Clarke carefully massages her temple. The brand prominent on the side of her face. From one dying home to another. She remembered what Jaha said when they were given an ultimatum to leave or die: did we come all this way just to die tomorrow?

            “ _This is a normal part of monarchy_ ,” he explained. “ _People bring forth their issues to the person in charge. Not like bringing forth edicts_.”

            “ _It’s not that I’m bored_ ,” she pointed out. “ _It’s just that, my people came down from a dying home, bloodshed in the process, only for the earth to die. Was it worth it?_ ”

            He stroked the stubble on his chin before facing her. “ _Sometimes, Clarke, things happen for a reason_ ,” he pointed out. “ _As harsh as it may seem, it’s better to die later then sooner_.”  

 

* * *

 

 _It’s better to die later then sooner_. Those were the words ringing through Clarke’s brain as she slept that night. She didn’t know if it would have been better dying of oxygen deprivation up in the Ark or if it were better to die from something else on this planet.

            Instinctively, Clarke held tight onto him. Basking in his warmth and comfort. Hopefully it wasn’t what she feared. Famines happen. Have happened since the dawn of time but on a planet that was still irradiated, one never knows.

            Over a couple hundred bombs were detonated that day two hundred years ago and she heard that it would take only twenty to irradiate the planet. Like the Earth was probably having enough of the effects and was giving out. She hated to know what was next.

            Clarke grinded her teeth the next morning as she stood outside. Wrapped in grey furs as she watched them load the carriage for her and Roan’s trip to his father’s village.

            She observed Costia loading a few boxes. Echo close behind her. Watching as the two talked. Not long before Costia turned to kiss her. It wasn’t a gentle kiss on the lips that lasted a few seconds but a passionate one that would take a minute. As if they were afraid today might be the last day to see each other.

            The ground was different then the sky. Of course down here, couples would kiss like it’s their last. Something that was ironic because the Ark was draconian in every respect.

            Costia and Echo separated. The former placing a kiss on the latter’s forehead. Echo turning away as Clarke watched. She tried to imagine herself as Lexa, thinking that her lover was dead. Not realizing that her presumed to be deceased lover was with someone else.

            She didn’t want to imagine that feeling, but she could understand it. Lexa thought that Costia was dead and Costia thought that she’d never see Lexa again. She hoped it wouldn’t be complicated if the two found a reason to meet again.

            Clarke mused on such thoughts as the carriage took her, Roan, and Costia towards Kattegat. Snow softly falling outside the window.

 

* * *

 

            _She loves him_.

            Were the thoughts that were recurring in Echo’s head since yesterday. After Roan’s revelation that he and _Wanheda_ were acquainted before Polis. There was no reason to be jealous. She already had a strong girlfriend that was at times tender. Who was good with a sword yet would braid her hair. Who was amazing to sleep with, an beast in bed basically.

            It was a problem because it wasn’t supposed to happen. _Wanheda_ was supposed to be merciless. Only out for her people’s interest. Yet, she allowed the populace of the capital to tear apart the last Mountain Man.

            And she loves him.

            Echo swallowed as she watched the departing carriages en route towards Kattegat. Love. Love weakened the inferno within the warrior, she was taught. Love clouded your judgment. Love was something that only peasants do, were Nia’s words.

            Yet, Echo loved Costia, a relationship that Nia no doubt dismissed as physical. She held her heart in her palm.

            And what about Bellamy?

            She did have a soft spot for him. After all, he saved her life, and she saved his in return. She trusted him and only him among his ilk. But did he trust her?

            Tears threatened come as the memory of him kissing that dead girl resurfaced. He wasn’t going to trust her after that, it seemed. No one would.

            And if she saw him again, she doubt that she would be prepared for the loathing on his face. Even if she was prepared for it.

 

* * *

 

            Kattegat was four hours away from Gara, by his memory. Roan had been there a few times as a boy with his father. And after his father’s death, he would travel to the village on a whim. Just for an excuse to stay far away from his mother.

            Riding into it now, it was still the same last time he saw it. Cabins with snowcapped roofs, wooden buildings with their intricately carved doors, and sleds which wolves pulled leaning against the dwellings.

            Earl Rhiannon stood outside with what looked like her welcoming party. Her red hair graying from his observation. Though it seemed like her brands had aged her more than less.

            He had helped Clarke out of the carriage.

            The king’s guard, which included Ontari, was not too far off. Costia was right behind Clarke.

            “ _Look at you_ ,” Earl Rhiannon mused as she gazed at him. “ _You have grown to be a fine man. Just like your father_.”

            Roan could only chuckle in amusement, yet not missing the glares from some of her entourage. One man practically spit on the ground. “ _You are the first one to tell me that, to be honest_ ,” he admitted.

            The Earl turned her gaze to Clarke. “ _Our new queen, I see_ ,” she said. “Clarke of the Sky People. Wanheda.”

            Clarke nodded. “ _Yes, m’lady_ ,” she answered formally.

            “ _Azgeda has no queen_ ,” someone hissed. “ _Azgeda has no king. What we have before us are traitors_.”

            “ _Peace, Boyd_ ,” the Earl hissed before turning back to them. Her harsh grimace settling into a smile. “ _Azgeda welcomes you, Wanheda. This way, your majesties_.”

            She had prompted her entourage in first before they entered. Probably to keep an eye on them, was his thought. To make sure anyone doesn’t do anything stupid. Yet, irrational loyalty to the one before them. Especially to one like his mother.

            They removed their cloaks upon entrance. With Clarke looking around the room. He could see one of the Earl’s guards contemplating something. Warning bells ringing in his head.

            “ _Care for some tea?_ ” Rhiannon asked them.

            “Yes,” he answered, placing his hand on the handle of his knife.

            “ _Yes, thank you_ ,” Clarke answered, stroking that metal wristband that she purchased. He could hardly fathom why she purchased something that marked her as a prisoner when she first came down, but to each his own, he guessed.

            “ _I’ll come along_ ,” Costia said, following an attendant out of the room. Probably to make sure someone doesn’t poison the tea.

            An scuffle erupted from behind. And he had whipped around to respond to see that guard on the floor. Blood pouring from his neck as Clarke stood above him. Her eyes somberly looking on at his corpse. Others in the room looking on with wide eyes, a few of them backing away.

            Earl Rhiannon gazed at the scene with wide eyes. Her mouth open in shock. “ _Dolores, clean that up_ ,” she ordered. “ _And take the body out please_.”

            Another death since the previous week. Thirteen.

            Thirteen was an unlucky number according to most. Roan knew what he was getting himself into when he brought her here. He had placed a target on both of them. On her especially.

            Though, Clarke had a target on her back before she got here.

 

* * *

 

            Thirteen.

            Thirteen dead so far since she arrived up in Ice Nation. Thirteen was the unlucky number.

            Clarke tried to hide the fact that she was shaking when the village’s Earl had sat down with her and Roan for tea and a meal. Costia sniffing both their cups and sipping out of them as to make sure that it wasn’t poisoned.

            She meant well but it reminded her of the time when Gustus tried to frame Raven for poisoning Lexa. Raven. Clarke kicked herself in her shin for even suspecting that it was her that did it since she wanted her to kill her earlier.

            (And Clarke still wondered why her mother wanted to leave and not intervene when they started torturing her to death. Bellamy was the only other person that wanted to save her).

            Fortunately, they survived through the meal long enough for the Earl to show them to their room for the duration of their stay. It was like the rest of the building. Wooden paneling on the walls, a bed draped with furs and a carved image on the headboard. Quilted curtains on the windows.

            “ _Your father slept in this room last time I remembered_ ,” the Earl said to Roan in particular. “ _We would play here and well…I’ll leave it at that_.”

            Clarke could feel the blood rush to her cheeks and she could see that Roan was maintaining his stoicism. Even if he felt like the last part was unnecessary. Sleeping in the bedroom of her deceased father in law was one thing but to hear an implied sexual encounter between him and another was awkward.

            “ _I will have your attendant bring your breakfast every morning_ ,” she continued. “ _Everything is at your disposal, your majesties_.”

            “ _Thanks_ ,” Clarke said, placing her hands in front of her. “ _We admire your hospitality_.”

            She nodded. “ _At your service, Wanheda_ ,” she said with a bow. “ _Likewise with the king_.”

            When she left them, Clarke took a deep breath. Sitting on the bed, the mattress emitted a loud creak. Great, just what they needed if they wanted to do anything. That made sex awkward if they ever wanted to.

            “That might make things difficult,” he surmised as he sat next to her. “People could hear us if they wanted too.”

            She slightly chuckled, though the recent bloodshed at her hand was still fresh on the memory. “I had a creaky bed back on the Ark,” she admitted. “In fact, I think every teenager did.”

            “Probably as part of their population control,” Roan figured. “To make sure that teenagers don’t pop out children before their time.”

            “You got that right,” she pointed out. Roan always put a finger to things. He didn’t need to beat around the bush.

            After a slight pause, he spoke. “That was bound to happen,” he answered. “People eager to want to bag _Wanheda’s_ ability.”

            She nodded. “I’m the Commander of Death, right?” she asked. “I must be proving their belief right with the bodies dropping.”

            Clarke hoped that more didn’t have to die so people would back off. In _Azgeda_ , it seemed that to kill was the way to survive. That killing was a way to assert authority.

            With Costia in the next room, Clarke and Roan turned in for the night. The wind blowing against the shutters as they lay in bed together. She thought about tomorrow and what might become of it. Will it go down smoothly or will she and Roan have to assert themselves through killing?

            She was drifting between sleep when she heard footsteps creaking against the floorboards outside. Clarke knew that it could be nature calling to someone at night but with the nasty feeling in her gut, something wasn’t right.

            She abruptly sat up from bed. Kicking the covers off, not caring that it startled him awake as she grabbed a knife from one of their pockets.

            “What is it, Clarke?” he asked.

            “I believe that someone is going to kill us,” she whispered, getting back in bed. “Something is not right.”

            The doorknob turned and she could hear Roan hiding in the wardrobe just before the door opened. Clarke lay still. Knife under her pillow as footsteps sounded on the wooden floor. Gritting her teeth as she could feel someone behind her.

            Hands touched her shoulder just as she jammed her attacker’s abdomen with her elbow before piercing her knife in his leg; in the location of a major artery.

            Just when she could hear a knife stab him in the back.

            Clarke could hear a thump on the floor as she turned to see who it was.

            “One of the Earl’s guards,” Roan scoffed as their attacker lay convulsing on the floor. Clarke’s blood pounded throughout her body as she got off the bed as he placed a foot on his neck. “Answer your king and queen before she takes the knife from your leg,” he declared to him. “Did someone send you or was this on your own?”

            “My own,” the guard groaned. “The king needs to answer for his treason. Wanheda needs to…”

            He trailed off and knowing that she received enough, Clarke pulled the blade from his leg. Blood pooling around them. Wet and red blood.

            “We’re making quite the record, I should say,” he panted.

            That made fourteen. Fourteen people.

 

* * *

 

            “Anything?” Kane asked him as Bellamy entered his quarters.

            Bellamy drew a sigh. If there was anything he was doing this for, it was Clarke. For her safety. “Pike is planning an attack on that village in a couple weeks. Thought it was best to lay low.”

            If Bellamy wanted to participate, it was because he wanted to diffuse the situation. Make sure that no lives were lost.

            “He is still going through with this even after that new development by Clarke and the Ice Nation,” Kane muttered. “He’s basically signing another death warrant for this place.”

            Bellamy liked that Kane didn’t group Clarke with _Azgeda_. That he acknowledged her outside of it. He didn’t care what Pike and others said. Clarke would always be one of them. Her marriage treaty wasn’t going to invalidate the fact that she was one of the original hundred.

            As for the former Vice Chancellor’s remarks, even with Pike being a good strategist, both _Trikru_ and _Azgeda_ would want their blood. Both clans hated each other but they would want to unite to wipe them out.

            Only that Clarke’s marriage treaty would bar their participation.

            “The Commander suffered a major loss last week,” Bellamy pointed out. “She’s only going to answer with a blockade like the one that Tristan threatened us with if we didn’t hand over Finn within seventy-two hours. _Azgeda_ isn’t going to give them the manpower.”

            “Even so, you need to go to dispel tension,” Kane said. “And Pike is going to want you to participate.”

            “I know that,” Bellamy pointed out. “Figure that Octavia and Lincoln should warn the village? I don’t know how the Commander would feel about _Skaikru_ emissaries leaving Polis with all that is happening.”

            “She wouldn’t have a problem if it’s to warn her people,” he assured.

            Bellamy tried to be hopeful that it wouldn’t end up on another path to violence but with the Earth, one doesn’t know.

 

* * *

 

            The assailant’s body was displayed on the main street of the village the next morning. With a few people stopping to look at the display.          

“ _It was a mistake to bring her here_ ,” Ontario whispered to him. Gesturing to Clarke, who stepped inside a village armory. “ _Why didn’t you just kill her?_ ”

Ontari’s comment didn’t help considering the tension that he could taste. That something bad was bound to happen. Something that he didn’t want to dwell on.

“ _Silence_ ,” he beckoned, putting down the piece of fur he was analyzing as he followed Clarke to her destination. Aware of the many eyes on him as he stepped inside the cabin where Clarke went to. He used to visit this armory as a boy when he came here with his father.

How he loved to put his hands on the crafted weapons. Feeling the wood on his small hands. And the smell of burned metal seemed to be what he liked. Roan could smell dust as he entered the armory. Hearing the clang of the village blacksmith from the next room, at work beating a hammer on what looked like a sword.

Clarke was looking at the arrays of bows. Analyzing one in each hand, turning the wooden or metal handles. Testing the bow strings with her fingers.

“ _Not as big as a selection in Gara, but it makes the process easier_ ,” she mused. “ _The smaller the choices, the easier the process_.” She put her hands on a wooden, intricately carved bow. “ _I tested this one. Has a strong bowstring_.”

He watched as she took an arrow, pulled it along the bow string, and shot the arrow towards a wooden beam. Which was riddled with holes from test shots. Clarke pulled the arrow from the beam.

“ _If you love it so much, take it_ ,” he encouraged. Seeing her smile as she handled the bow in her hand. “ _It’s good as yours_.”

Stepping outside, he could sense hostility in the air as a crowd gathered. One that sent the hairs on the back of his neck standing up.

It was bad enough that there was tension before he went inside the armory.

A few feet away, was the body of Earl Rhiannon. Blood pooling on the snow under her body.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“ _Azgeda has no king_ ,” a woman, probably the instigator of all this, declared. “ _Azgeda has no queen_.”

Roan didn’t want it to come to this. He hoped that it would never come to this. But it was going to. He took his sword from his sheath as Clarke took out hers. And he could see that she was trying not to shake.

“ _You are going to have to deal with both of us_ ,” he guaranteed. Stupid people. Stupid enough to start a coup after last night’s incident.

The woman curls her lips in a smirk as she pulls out her sword and he could see Clarke fighting with another opponent before his confrontation starts. Blood pounding in his ears as swords clang. Knocking his attacker off her feet as he heard Clarke gasp before he could hear her grunt as she impaled a sword into whoever attacked her.

He knocked his opponent off her feet. Impaling her upon disarming her.

Heart pounding in his chest, he turned to see Clarke. Limping slightly, yet steadying her hold on her sword.

“ _Anyone else want to come forward?_ ” he demanded to those still standing. “ _Surrender or die. Your choice_.”

He and Clarke already made an example of two. He didn’t need to make other examples.

When the next person stepped forward, they forced to resume fighting. Ending with eight people on the ground. Blood drenching the snow. Around them.

When it’s over, Roan saw that Clarke was covering her left eye. Her sword drenched with blood. Barely aware of the throbbing on his arm.

 

* * *

 

Everything was hazy after a while. All she could focus on was the throbbing on her left eye and the throbbing in her leg. The pain excruciating to the point where even if she wanted to stand, she couldn’t.

After walking a ways, it was like the world around her seemed to sway and be pulled beneath her. Her knees buckling before collapsing. Dimly aware of being caught before hitting the ground.

Darkness and silence was her reality, with whispers and conversations passing through her stream of consciousness.

Her first real fight, one might call it. One against multiple people. Actually two against multiple people. Regarding the situation, she couldn’t clearly recount the aftermath. There was a coup against the resident Earl, she knew.

A coup. After what happened the previous night, it would have been enough for people to get the message, “Stay away. Taking on the king and _Wanheda_ might actually kill you.” Though there would be some brazen to think they could take them on.

Death really does follow her.

She cringed upon feeling cold and wet cloth on a cut above her eye. Yet, she could have sworn that her left eye was injured, the blade had hit it. She had seen pictures of eye injuries and saw Grounders with eye injuries, like the Polis emissary sent by Lexa.

Either she would have a hard time seeing from that eye or she could be partially blind. Two realistic possibilities. Conversation flowed in, yet vision was hard to kick in. Possibly with her left eye being injured.

“It’s hard to see,” she breathed as she felt something plaster over her eye.

“It will recover soon enough,” came Roan’s voice as she dimly saw Costia bring over a basin. “Just relax, Snowflake. I’m here. Just relax.”

With something numbing the pain, it was easy to relax.

Though she could only imagine if Polis let this story flow home.


	28. Chapter Twenty Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU of 3x06/3x07

Octavia and Lincoln hide behind the trees, watching as Gilmer, Mrs. Green, and a third person took samples by the river. Probably to return to Pike for what they wanted to do.

            _Trikru_ murdering bastards.

To think that her own brother was one of them curdled her stomach. Even if he swapped back to Kane’s side, it doesn’t erase what he partook on that field. And she didn’t care what Lincoln said, about her brother making up for his mistakes.

            “Pike’s detail is still at it,” she paged Kane. “Soil and water samples.”

            “Any idea what they’re up to?” he asked from the other end.

            “No,” Lincoln answered from his radio. “They are armed, which means they want no living witnesses. Probably related to the information Bellamy gave you about that village.”

            Octavia looked up from the log she was hiding behind to see a small figure on the other side of the river. Crap. Crap. Crap. Lincoln’s eyes widened when he noticed too.

            “Kane, we have to go,” Lincoln stressed, his eyes on the child. “There is a child from my clan at the other side of the river. If we don’t do anything, the child will get killed if spotted.”

            Unfortunately, they saw the child. And it took moments before Octavia and Lincoln began pursuit. Hoping to beat Monty’s mother and her peers to the child.

            Sleeping warriors was one thing but a child was another.  

           

* * *

 

“ _Ai Haiplana_.”

            “ _Wanheda_.”

            Her boots scrapped against the cold street as she walked the city streets that morning. Aware of people moving out of the way.

            If only they didn’t need to do that.

            It’s been three weeks since she was in Ice Nation. Three weeks since she’s been their queen. Three weeks and all it took was one skirmish to prove that she was worthy alongside their king. Bloodshed, that was what was needed.

            Clarke’s expedition to the town was simple. She had to pick up a sword that was being welded for her specifically. Each monarch had their own sword, though mainly it was because she didn’t want to touch Nia’s sword.

            The local blacksmith, Attie, was probably eager to craft a special sword for the great _Wanheda_ anyway. Who wouldn’t?

            Her attendant and her entourage of guards follow her as she opened the door to the blacksmith shop. The room smelling of welded metal and fire.

            “ _Is it almost done?_ ” she asked, curiosity in her tone. Clarke tried not to come off as too brash. She may be considered ruthless but it wasn’t what she saw herself as.

            “ _All I have to do is give the finishing touch_ ,” the Attie promised, carving a symbol on the wooden sword handle. “ _It shouldn’t take long, Wanheda_.”

            “ _I can wait_ ,” she assured. Clarke didn’t want to push it. The great _Wanheda_ is able to be patient as well. Besides, no one should rush with what they are doing. Things take time.

            He set down his carving knife and she watched as he placed the blade of the sword in a thick leather sheath. Presenting it with both hands, he offered, “ _Your sword, my queen_.”

            Clarke carefully took the sword from his hand. Trying hard not to shake with this new weapon in her hands. She turned the handle, seeing its carved images on the handle: the _Azgeda_ symbol, the first king’s symbol, and something that she recognized as the Norse Helm of Awe.

            Norse Mythology stated that the Helm of Awe was to incite awe and terror into the holder or wearer’s enemies. _Wanheda_ having the Helm of Awe on her sword handle was oddly fitting. Clarke lifted the sword sheath slightly to get a glimpse of the metal. No different from the swords hanging on the wall. Not that it mattered.

            A sword was a sword.

            “ _I thank you for this gift_ ,” she said as she tied to sheath to her waist. Clarke took a bag of old radio parts from her waist and placed it on the table. “ _A token of my gratitude_.”

            He picked up the bag and shook it with his hand. His worn face breaking into a smile. “ _Mochof, ai haiplana_.”

            Clarke nodded before turning back to the cold outside. Flurries falling from the sky compared to the last time since she stepped inside the warm building. She gathered her cloak around her body, gazing around with her eyes on her next destination before returning to the palace for lunch.

            She could stop at the bakery. See what they had to offer this week. Maybe that hazelnut bread that was gifted to the wedding ceremony. It wasn’t the smooth stuff but it was good bread. Clarke turned to the direction when of the bakery when she caught wind of a scuffle.

            Clarke turned to see a group of children beating upon somebody. The adults just watching for a few seconds before going on their way.

            _Why aren’t they doing anything?_ She thought with a frown as she stepped forward. Clarke had to do something.

            “ _Wan daun_ ,” she commanded, as she stepped forward. “ _Don’t you have better things to do?_ ”

            At once, the children dispersed at the sight of her. Running like mice. The only person remaining was a small figure curled up in a ball. Not moving even if her assailants were away. Clarke ignored the many eyes watching as she stepped towards the child.

            Scandalized whispers fluttering through the crowds and she caught the word _frikdreina_. Trigedasleng for freak. Someone with a deformity.

            “Once in a while, that happens,” Roan explained to her a week ago. “The toxins from the Praimfaya affect the genetic makeup, though it’s said that things like that happened before. Sangedakru don’t see them as worthy of living, though here, they are allowed to exist. Since they are not like us, their opportunities are limited. They can’t pick up a sword, much less appear in public if it’s on their face.”

            “They are as much human as we are, Roan,” she pointed out, disappointed that he adopted this thinking. “One deformity doesn’t make them any less human. Nor should it reduce what they can accomplish.”

            He didn’t say anymore on the subject. Probably thought it was best to keep his mouth shut then alienating her.

            Back in the present, she kneeled down towards the shuddering figure. Aware that her entourage was watching her with wariness.

            “ _Are you okay?_ ” she asked.

            She was answered with a small gasp as a pair of brown eyes looked at her. Eyes wide with fear. The brown haired girl trembling as she stood up. She appeared normal, with the exemption of her left hand, which appeared to be nothing but a stump between the elbow and forearm.

            “ _It’s okay_ ,” Clarke tried to assure her. Trying to sound calm as possible.

            She shrunk towards the wall before running away. As if her life depended on it.

            “ _Hod op_ ,” Clarke called, running after the child. “ _Come back_.”

            People moved out of the way as she ran after the child. Trying not to slip on slippery streets as she made her pursuit. _Wanheda_ didn’t have to be some merciless person. She can be merciful and gentle when she wants to.

            Something that Clarke wanted to prove.

            She ran down a couple of streets, only stopping when she lost sight of the child. Panting as she looked around her surroundings. Biting her lip as the snowfall started to increase. She should have known that everything about her would incite fear in a child. From her title to her moniker to especially the scar running down the left side of her face.

            Especially to a child with a deformity.

            Clarke breathed deeply as she turned back. The weather was getting bad, so she might as well return to the palace anyway. Best not get caught in one of _Azgeda_ ’s blizzards.

 

* * *

 

            “ _Podakru hates our guts, if I were to be frank_ ,” Lagertha stressed to him. “ _The ambassador might think you are shortchanging her_.”

            “ _Not if we free their innocent_ ,” he pointed out. “ _I have already decreed that Skaikru slaves be free in relation to the deal we made with Clarke and Skaikru. After Podakru, Trishanakru will be next._ ”

            Though Roan wasn’t sure if everyone in the territory would abide by that decree. Even after the skirmish in Kattegat, there might be a few that might not abide by it. Especially where the eternal snow starts and south towards the _Trikru_ border.

            “ _Even so, they might want more_ ,” Lagertha insisted.

            “ _If they want more, it depends what it is_ ,” Roan said. “ _If they want Wanheda, I shall have to refuse_.”

            Clarke was amassing a reputation not just in _Azgeda_ but also throughout the Coalition. After fourteen deaths, after the skirmish, it seemed to be confirmed that _Wanheda’s_ power could be channeled by the person closest to her. That he was able to wield death without killing her.

            Not to mention the scar over her left eye, the blue iris faded as a result of the impact, gave her a more fearsome appearance. It indicated her strength here. For one who wears their strength after battle or a fight are warranted respect, even if that person wasn’t liked by a portion of the population beforehand.

            The door creaks open and Echo peered in. “ _Her majesty has just arrived back at the palace_ ,” she said tersely. “ _They are saying that she tried helping a frikdreina out in the market square_.”

            Clarke. Helping a _frikdreina_. Roan should have known that she would have exposed her just behavior at some point. Even if it drew scandalized reactions from others. He wouldn’t have bothered personally, though he knew how it would enrage Clarke had he were there and suggested the opposite.

            “ _Thank you, Echo_ ,” he said. She nodded before leaving the room.

            Lagertha blew air in her cheeks. “ _It’s going to come back to bite her if she’s not careful_ ,” she wagered. “ _The idea that she would have sympathy for a frikdreina is preposterous. She’s basically one of us_.”

            “ _She was basically born out of this world, Lagertha_ ,” he pointed out. “ _Just because she’s one of us now doesn’t destroy her roots_.”

            Lagertha scoffed as she left the drawing room. Basically muttering how Skaikru were soft. Even if she was soft when she landed, she outgrown it the more time she spent on the ground.

            It was a few minutes later when Clarke entered the drawing room. Rid of her traveling cloak. Wearing a blue frayed sweater and leather trousers. Having seemed to replace her boots.

            “ _I retrieved my sword from the blacksmith_ ,” she stated as she approached him. “ _He does good wood work on the handle_.” Clarke bent down to kiss him before sitting down next to him. One of her legs tangled with his.

            “ _I heard you witnessed quite a great deal of trouble in the market_ ,” he pointed out.

            “ _A group of children were beating on some poor little girl_ ,” she answered. “ _The other adults were just letting it happen, so I had to stop them. The queen has to make her voice be heard. I doubt that she’ll allow such a thing to happen_.”

            She was right. A queen was within her right to establish authority. Make her voice heard, even. Even if it created a stir.

            “ _My sister says that you need to be careful_ ,” he vocalized as he toyed with one of the braids on Clarke’s hair. Intricate braids weren’t an Azgeda thing. If there were braids, they were simple. It had to be Costia that did her hair. That part of Trikru didn’t seem to die within her, it seemed.

            “ _Wanheda can be merciful_ ,” she insisted.

            “ _Yes, but people will think that you are weak_ ,” he answered. “ _Gentleness and weakness are considered synonymous with one another here_.”

            “ _I wasn’t embracing the child or anything_ ,” she said. “ _In fact, the girl was frightened of me. Wouldn’t let me near her_.”

            With her appearance and reputation, that shouldn’t surprise him. “ _You’re Wanheda_ ,” he pointed out. “ _I don’t think you’re quite known to mercy around children_.”

            Clarke rolled her eyes, as if that annoyed her. “ _I’m not some blood thirsty killing machine_ ,” she iterated. “ _I don’t kill for the fun of it. Now, how long before the Podakru ambassador gets here_.”

            “ _In two hours, at the most_ ,” he answered. “ _What exactly do you have in mind?_ ”

            Roan didn’t need to ask anyway, for she was kissing his fingers. Ten minutes later, they were in their bedchambers. Plastered against each other skin to skin. 

 

* * *

 

            Monty picked through his lunch with a fork. It will only be a few hours before they dispatched to that village.

            If he had a choice, he wouldn’t participate. Not to mention Harper had gone cold and distant ever since he became a member of Pike’s special taskforce. Even if he was pressured by his mother.

            “Grow a backbone and say no,” she said. “All Pike is doing is signing our death warrant. Not to mention he’s got another warrant out on him by the Ice Nation.”

            Ice Nation’s arrest and execution warrant. Among them were his mother. And Bellamy’s exclusion only confirmed that it was _their_ Clarke that also sanctioned it. The Ice Nation didn’t care when they killed those kids who his father died saving. They wouldn’t have cared if Bellamy landed in _Trikru_ territory.

            Monty didn’t want to believe that it was her. That even if it was, Clarke was probably pressured. Though Clarke wasn’t easy to manipulate and pressure. Raven told him that it was her idea that they burned the Grounder army to a blackened crisp. It was her idea that they irradiate Level 5 of Mount Weather.

            The fact that Clarke didn’t put her foot down was telling. She literally threw them under the bus with this agreement, even if it was well intentioned.

            “Everything okay, Monty,” Wells asked as he sat down with him. Not taking his uneasy eyes on the group of people that appeared to be meditating. Raven speaking with Jasper.

            The former Chancellor before Abby Griffin was acting weird. And it seemed to be one of the main things on his mind.

            “I don’t know,” Monty answered. “I doubt it especially with what will happen in a few hours.”

            “It’s going to backfire,” Wells said as if to assure him. “It will only give the Woods Clan an excuse to hand Pike over to the Ice Nation.”

            “How do you feel about your friend doing this?” Monty asked Wells. “She literally sold us out to the people that killed forty-nine people in Mount Weather.”

            “Clarke is trying to maintain political stability,” he said, “though I don’t agree with the arrest and death warrant that she agreed to. Unfortunately, if she’s merciful, they could kill her. The Ice Nation are brutal to the bone. Anya said so herself.”

            It still didn’t make it right.

 

* * *

 

            She and Roan pulled on their clothing. Minutes to spare before lunch. Even with reading and research at her disposal, sex wasn’t a bad way to pass the time. It increased their chances for an heir as well.

            It was expected of them to have a child. Though the idea of having a child with him was euphoric.

            Clarke pulled her shirt back on when she caught herself in the mirror. Stepping close to see the girl looking straight at her. She was the same, except for the brands on the side of her face. The scar running down over her eye, giving her a faded iris and slightly larger pupil.

            She swallowed. Almost four months since Mount Weather and it’s like she made a transformation into complete Grounder. She spoke their language. She still knew English but combined with learning it in addition to the three weeks with people that spoke their language, it seemed to flow naturally with her rather than her birth tongue.

            If her friends saw her from a distance, they wouldn’t recognize her until they heard her voice. They most likely saw her as Grounder anyway by now. And she wouldn’t blame them.

            “We are not Grounders,” she told her peers months ago when she tried to stop them from killing Anya. Moments before the Ring of Fire. Only for her to begin to assimilate with the Ice Nation months later. Oh, the irony.

            She smoothed her clothes. Knowing that she and Roan tried to keep an straight face as they entered the dining room. Trying not to give the indication of prior sexual activity.

            Though nothing failed Aspen’s curiosity.

            “ _Did the earth move under you two before lunch?_ ” was his question.

            “ _You better be careful_ ,” Roan warned him. “ _We’re at the dining table after all_.”

            With the presence of knives, it would be a temptation to stab someone in the fingers with a knife. Though Clarke was tempted to give Aspen a taste of that pain

            Nymeria was babbling on about color combinations. Probably on her latest painting.

            Lagertha was busy stabbing through her food. Clarke didn’t want to ask who pissed in her coffee before lunch.

            “ _Rumor has it, you stopped a bunch of kids from beating upon a frikdreina_ ,” Aspen emitted as Clarke was halfway finished with her pile of corn.

            The blood reached her face as she turned up from her plate. Now wasn’t the time for this. “ _I had to do something_ ,” she argued. “ _A queen can’t just let disorder happen under her nose. The adults were doing nothing_.”

            “ _Why would you be concerned for a frikdreina?_ ” Aspen asked with jest. “ _They don’t contribute to much anyway_.”

            That was when Clarke picked up a steak knife and jammed the blade between his fingers. Watching his eyes widen as those around them stopped eating. She could have stabbed a digit but she just wanted to make a statement.

            She was the great and fearsome Wanheda after all.

            “ _Say anything else on the matter and it will be your finger_ ,” she said as she picked back up her fork. aware that Roan was smirking at his brother.

            “ _You really don’t want to test her now, do you?_ ” he surmised before turning back to his lunch.

            Fortunately, Aspen kept his mouth shut. Clarke wondered how long she was going to go without cutting off his tongue. For everything he said, aggravated her.

            Lunch’s conclusion marked the meeting of the _Podakru_ Ambassador. Fiske, was her name, they said. Clarke gritting her teeth as they arrived at the council meeting. They were one of the clans that had a bounty out for her. They wanted her in her arsenal, it was said.

            She hoped that it wouldn’t end in bloodshed.

            Fiske was meeting them pursed her lips as they stepped into the room. As if their mere presence was enough to tick her off.

            “ _You said that you had something to offer_ ,” she spat out. “ _It better be worthwhile_.”

            Clarke swallowed as Roan began speaking. “ _Podakru was among the clans that participated in the war against my mother_.”

            “ _Yes_ ,” she seethed. “ _Her army killed thousands of my clan and enslaved others, and we have not received reparations as promised_.”

            Seems like _Trikru_ weren’t the only clan that picked a bone with _Azgeda_. Then again, it was indicative in the first king’s journals that he sought after the Glowing Forest territory. Igniting beef with them.

            “ _We can’t bring back your dead_ ,” Clarke pointed out, “ _but we can return the innocent wrongly imprisoned here_.”

            Fiske cocked her head to the side as she narrowed her eyes. “I _nteresting_ ,” she said. “ _Wanheda speaks for a clan that isn’t her own_.”

            “ _The king and I made an agreement_ ,” Clarke hastily put forth, the woman’s accusation grinding against her ears. “ _Skaikru and Azgeda are their own clans but they are politically united_.”

            She nodded slowly before turning to Roan. “ _How soon can we expect our people back?_ ” she asked.

            “ _The decree freeing your people shall be set in motion starting tomorrow_ ,” Roan answered. “ _I can guarantee that they will leave the capital but other centers of population might take time. There are people here that don’t recognize us as their official monarchs_.”

            “ _I shouldn’t be surprised since that loyalty to your mother seems engrained in their brains_ ,” the ambassador pointed out.

 

* * *

 

            It’s what Wells’ decision to head out with Miller to meet with Lincoln and Octavia in the cave to give them their horses. Hours later, Wells had tried to see if he could get a hold of that backpack that his father had with him. Only to see that it was still in Raven’s possession.

            And he didn’t want to risk getting near her and risking that same proposition again. A fact that hurt him.

            So, he decided to journey outside Arkadia with Miller to meet with Lincoln and Octavia about that village that Kane said that Pike and his taskforce was set on raiding. (It was according to Kane that the Commander wanted them to contain the situation regarding his father first. Mrs. Griffin was set on taking those chips and the chipmaker that day too. How Commander Lexa found out about the City of Light mess was a mystery to him. Maybe Kane told her.)

            When they arrived at the location, they both dismounted from their horses and entered the cave. Where both Lincoln and Octavia were waiting. Warming their hands by a fire.

            Awareness was in Lincoln’s eyes when they approached them as with some eagerness. Probably to see what more they can hear.

            “Finally,” Octavia breathed, “where are our horses?”

            “Outside,” Miller answered.

            “Is Pike still set on raiding that village?” Lincoln asked. “Even with Azgeda calling for his head and the head of eight others involved for the massacre?”

            “Pike says it’s for Arkadia’s future,” Wells said in disbelief. All it would accomplish would be Lexa calling for their heads. “It will only open more graves.”

            “Then we need to warn them,” Octavia said. “Tell them to leave or they will get killed.”

            “You actually think that a bunch of Grounders are going to give up their home because you two asked them to?” Miller asked.

            “They might,” Lincoln answered. “It’s no guarantee that they would, but considering that the village was bombed by flares, I’d be surprised if they don’t listen.”

            Lincoln had a point, even if there was an obstacle.

            “The Commander bereaved you, Lincoln, and Octavia, you’re Skaikru,” Wells pointed out. “They are going to want to listen to someone like Anya or Indra or Tristan.”

            “Wells is right,” Miller pitched in. “Not to mention that if they don’t leave, it’s leading us straight into an ambush.”

            “Anya has her hands tied with the _Azgeda_ ambassador regarding jurisdiction on future arrests,” Lincoln stressed. “And I doubt that Tristan and Indra would be cooperative.”

            Being the only survivor of the massacre, Indra was probably dealing with survivor’s guilt. And Tristan probably hates them just as he did when they first landed.

            “Also, what do you think happens when Lexa finds out that _Skaikru_ massacred another Grounder village?” Octavia demands.

            Octavia couldn’t be anymore right.

            “War,” Miller answered. “More dead friends.”

            “They probably might starve us out,” Wells pitched in, remembering that blockade that they wanted to put on them. “Block our access to water.”

            “The situation is not ideal but stopping an attack is stopping an war,” Lincoln pointed out. “War is the last thing that we need.”

            Especially with Arkadia bound with _Azgeda_ as they speak. Especially with his father putting people in the City of Light.

 

* * *

 

            “ _For being Wanheda, she certainly has a fitting temper_ ,” Aspen grunted as he and Roan wielded their swords for training. The blood pounding in his fingertips as he held the handle of his sword.

            “ _You’re just lucky that she didn’t think to cut off your finger_ ,” Roan retorted as he ducked another blow before beating the blade of his sword against his brother’s. “ _Just don’t test her again_.”

            As if his brother was testing death itself. Like he had something to gain from it.

            “ _She has the temperament of Azgeda but after that incident with that frikdreina, she has a soft core_ ,” Aspen wagered. “ _What more do you expect from someone born in the sky?_ ”

            That was enough for Roan to knock his brother’s jaw with his elbow before knocking him in the ground with his feet. Pointing the blade of his sword down to his nose, his brother panting beneath him.

            “ _Be careful, brother_ ,” Roan warned. “ _Or I might consider tearing your tongue out of your mouth. That might be too merciful considered what Wanheda might have in mind_.”

            He offered his hand to Aspen and helped his brother to his feet. Not long before starting another round. This time with Lagertha participating in it as well.

            Practicing with two opponents would be difficult had he not try it beforehand. The last time he practiced with two opponents was at fifteen. His mother said that it was essential. For he might come across more than one opponent in his lifetime.

            Good advice from a shit mother.

            Lagertha was as good as him, for they were both ducking and combating each other’s blows. Both of them making sure that they didn’t kill the other. From the balcony, he could see Clarke watching, his younger sister close behind her.

            Both swathed in their grey furs. Talking amongst themselves.

            The _granplei_ lasted for another hour before Roan and two of his siblings decided to call it for the day. Rinsing their hands in the cold water. He could glimpse Lagertha smirking and judging by the large bruise around Aspen’s eye, it wasn’t hard to determine why.

            If Lagertha and Aspen were two opposing sides on the battlefield, there was no doubt that the former would filet the latter. For his hubris would be the end of him.

            Entering the palace, he could see that Clarke was slightly disgruntled. As if she lost some bet.

            “ _What were you and Nymeria betting?_ ” Roan asked her.

            “ _I bet that you would be the last one standing and she said that the fight would end with you and Lagertha pointing your swords at Aspen_ ,” she divulged before shrugging. “ _I had to give her five sticks of drawing charcoal as a result_.”

            Fights were okay as long as it was just training and she just watched.

            “ _You could train with one of my siblings, you know_ ,” he tells her.

             “ _I’m afraid that one of them would kill me_ ,” she commented, a wry smile curling her lips. Suggesting that she was merely jesting.

            “ _I will make sure that they don’t_ ,” he promised her. “ _They are not that stupid_.”

            “ _They better not be_ ,” she teased. “ _I’ll start out with your sister first. Because it seems that your brother is making it his goal to try to evade death_.”

            Even if Lagertha was a brutal fighter, he couldn’t blame Clarke’s thinking there. His brother was pushing it with her. If he wasn’t careful, Aspen could very well get killed at the hands of Clarke.

            You don’t challenge death, they say.

 

* * *

 

            It happened.

            Only the villagers ambushed instead of leaving. They had one casualty, according to Bellamy. Monroe barely made it. She was in the medical bay. Receiving ventilation for her lungs.

            “Lincoln and Octavia are nowhere to be found,” Bellamy informs him. “I don’t know if they got out or the villagers took them. If it’s the latter, they are probably taking them to Polis.”

            That’s the last thing they needed. It might only jumpstart what Lexa wanted had the trade embargo started. Only that they have to hand Pike and eight others to Ice Nation.

            “I’m going to keep correspondence with Polis tomorrow,” Kane promised him. “Make sure that Octavia and Lincoln are okay.”

            “Pike wants me to keep tabs on them as we speak,” Bellamy pointed out.

            “It’s difficult if they are all the way in Polis,” Kane assured. Either way, it was disturbing.

            Abby took Jaha’s chips and chipmaker away from him today. Gave them to Pike earlier. Therefore keeping the situation with Jaha contained as Lexa wanted. All they had to worry about was Pike.

            And if shit wasn’t going to hit the fan anytime soon, he was mistaken.

 

* * *

 

            The next morning, Clarke took up on Roan’s offer. Challenging Lagertha for a few rounds of _granplei_.

            “ _This should be interesting_ ,” Lagertha mused. “ _I’m interested to see what Wanheda has to bring_.”

            Not much actually. She only had less than four months of knowledge from Roan. Nothing too fancy but only enough to survive and win a duel. Lagertha, like Roan, was most likely born with a sword in her hands.

            A warrior princess trained since birth.

            And Lagertha didn’t prove her wrong. She was just as formidable as Roan. Unpredictable in her moves. Even though unpredictable, Clarke was lucky to be able to duck her swipes and not risk getting sliced in the side.

            It didn’t help that Roan’s brother was surveying the scene from above. Curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back, if Clarke was correct. Though Roan’s presence was a comfort to her. For he would intervene if his sister went too far.

            Her bones and muscles throbbed and ached as they both went through the rounds. The aftermath resulting in scrapped knees and a split lip.

            An hour afterwards, Clarke relaxed as Roan and Costia tended to her injuries. The latter singing a song that sounded as if they came from the trees of the Woods Clan itself. That part of her _Azgeda_ never killed.

            Even if they tried, Costia was still _Trikru_ through and through.

            Like Clarke was still _Skaikru_ , even if her appearance said otherwise.

            That night, Clarke went to bed. Mind heavy.

            Tomorrow morning, they were to meet with the advising council on an edict. Then learn about the progress of the jurisdiction decision between _Trikru_ and _Azgeda_.

            Her people weren’t going to forgive her for what she did. For agreeing to a warrant like that. She doubt that she would forgive herself for sentencing her Earth Skills teacher to death. But it had to be done.

            It had to be done for the sake of the alliance.

            When she drifted further into sleep, Clarke found herself on the Ark. The Ark before all stations but one left the sky. It was empty. No one else but herself. Her feet touching the metal floors as she crossed the corridors of Alpha Station.

            The ones she would take from her family’s compartment and back.

            Clarke gazed out the window, looking at the Earth. Still intact as it was.

            Everything the same as it was. Until she caught her reflection.

            The Clarke as of now, staring at her. One eye scarred. Face branded and hair in braids. Looking feral then before.

            A persistent banging started as Clarke took a breath. The air thinning each time she breathed. As if she was asphyxiated slowly. The banging growing louder as she collapsed.

            _Bang! Bang! Bang!_

            Roan grumbled beside her as Clarke’s eyes bolted open. Feeling him leave her side as she realized she was back in the bedchambers in _Azgeda_. The furs, wool blankets, and carved headboard behind her a comforting sight to see.

            Comforting.

            She had been in Ice Nation in only less than a month and it started to feel like home.  

            The banging on the door continued as Clarke followed her husband out of bed. Her bare feet touching the cold wooden floor as the door opened.

            “ _Whatever this is, it should be important enough to wake us up prior to midnight_ ,” he demanded.

            “ _Sire, the Commander is dead_ ,” Seiku said. “ _Killed by an assassin_.”

           


	29. Chapter Twenty Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The events of 3x08 are mostly intact, though with slight obvious differences (.i.e Kane losing fuel upon trying to leave Arkadia with Pike instead of Bellamy blocking him). Considering that Bellamy and Kane are in the same side, Bellamy trying to get out him out would have a different meaning.
> 
> We’re into 3x09 now or at least my version of it.

Clarke gazed out of the window of the royal coach. Tapping her fingertips against the edge as she looked at the setting sun. They were leaving _Azgeda_ territory and were about to cross the border towards Polis for the Conclave.

            Three weeks ago, she left Polis when she was an ambassador for her people. Now she would return to Polis as _Azgeda’s Haiplana_ ; in a grey fur draped overcoat over her clothes and that bone diadem gracing her forehead. She and Roan representing Ontari. Echo and Phelan coming to serve as battle council for Ontari. The former leaving Boydan, the Deputy Head Guard in charge until they came back. Echo said that it was in _Azgeda_ ’s best interest that she comes as a member of the combatant’s battle council but Clarke had a feeling that there was an ulterior motive there.

            It shouldn’t have come as a shock that Lexa was killed. Someone was bound to kill her as her decisions seemed to anger her constituents as of late. As if she was unfit to be Commander. Even if Clarke should have expected it, it still surprised her that Ontari was to participate.

            She was told that Ontari would return to Polis upon Lexa’s death but Ontari wasn’t trained and raised in Polis. However, it was her birthright and they couldn’t deny it to her, as they said.

            What worried Clarke more was Ontari’s genocidal thoughts towards her people. Upon getting ready an hour after being informed, Ontari’s comment, “ _Skaikru_ will rue the day they landed on this planet” caught Clarke’s attention.

            “Just kill the adult _Skaikru_ that landed in _Azgeda_ ,” Roan informed Ontari. “They are the ones that you are after.”

            “As he said, stick it to the adults who landed,” Clarke begged her. “Children and other innocent people that weren’t involved, spare them, please.”

            Ontari had nodded in understanding. “This marriage treaty was the stupidest decision within the past two centuries, but I will oblige to your request when I become Commander,” she said. “I am not unreasonable to compromises.”

            At the present, Clarke cast an uneasy glance at Ontari. Who was seated next to Costia. Originally, she was supposed to stay back in _Azgeda_ but she was insistent on going. Justifying that the queen needs her attendant at all times. And she decided to keep her face covered to avoid recognition.

            Clarke took a deep breath as they passed the wooden sign welcoming them to Woods Clan territory. She was close to Arkadia. Too uncomfortably close and she braced herself for the unpleasant. It was said by Afton that the latest ambassador representing _Skaikru_ went by Octavia and it was too blatantly obvious who it was.

            She wasn’t ready for whatever barbs Octavia might throw her way. Though Clarke wondered if she would deserve them.

            From her peripheral vision, she could see Roan gazing at her with concern. Not long before reaching out for her hand. In response, Clarke clutched onto it tight. She was going to need his support throughout all of this.

            It was a half an hour when Clarke caught sight of the Polis tower touching the skyline; it’s flame out. It had to mean something.

            “ _What does it mean when the flame on the tower is put out?_ ” Clarke asked.

            “ _It signifies the passage of time between the old Commander and the upcoming Commander_ ,” Costia answered. “ _They will light the torch after the ascension_.”

            Clarke swallowed, for the next Commander was most likely the one that sat across from her.

            It was minutes later, the carriage stopped in front of the tower. The carriage moving slightly as the coachmen left their seats before both doors opened. Her blood pounding in every inch of her body as the soles of her boots touched the concrete. Roan descending the carriage after her.

            “ _We shall meet with you shortly_ ,” Echo promised when they left the carriage. “ _Right now, Ontari needs to meet with the other Novitiates_.”

            The other Novitiates were twelve and Ontari was nineteen. Her age giving an advantage. Though Clarke remembered that Anya’s Second after Lexa, Tris, was twelve and had five kill marks. Kill marks that probably represented opponents twice her size.

            She tried to contain the chattering of her teeth as they entered the tower. When they took the lift to the floor containing the throne room. Ignoring the pounding in her ears as they appeared before the doors where guards stood.

            Straightening in alarm at their presence even if they were expected.

            “ _Hod op_ ,” they inform them, as if they were unexpected guests.

            Ontari sighed behind them in impatience as Roan demanded, “Out of our way,” before bursting through the doors. Clarke right behind him. Startled whispers and mutters filling the room as they entered. The most prominent being _Azgeda_ and _Wanheda_.

            Seems like people were spreading her notoriety to Polis.

            Clarke’s gaze swept over the room. Barely taking in the startled Novitiates and Lexa’s covered body before her eyes landed on Octavia. Who was standing next to Anya.

            Octavia’s eyes were widened at the sight of her, as if her changed appearance caught her off guard. It wasn’t long before she crinkled her nose and curled her lips in disgust. As if Clarke was a nasty piece of garbage that should be taken out immediately.

            Ontari caught her disgusted look and sauntered to Octavia.

            _No_ , Clarke breathed. Following Ontari to prevent her from killing Octavia if she wanted to.

            “Did you land in Azgeda?” Ontari asked her.

            “No,” Octavia snarled. “Not that it matters to you.”

            “It’s fortunate for you,” Ontari replied. “When I become Commander and the king and Wanheda bow to me, every single _Skaikru_ who landed in _Azgeda_ will die.”

 

* * *

 

            Kane. Sinclair. To be executed at dawn for what happened when they tried to hand Pike over to Polis.

            Sinclair.

            No, she couldn’t lose him. Sinclair was like a father to her when she started training for mechanics. He taught her everything she needed to know.

            Raven couldn’t lose him after Finn.

            Finn. That name drew blanks in her memory bank. As if they were cleaned out from her brain. It never occurred to her that every memory of him was gone until some offhanded comment by Jasper about remembering a first kiss as they were trying to steal the chipmaker back for Jaha.

            She squinted her eyes as she tried to find it. Only for something of a migraine to settle in.

            “That will not work, Raven,” she could hear her say. In that voice that now grated her ears when it didn’t before.

            “You were supposed to get rid of the painful memories,” Raven spat out to her.

            “I did,” said A.L.I.E, fingers weaved together as always. “Though sometimes a certain person can draw out painful memories. Therefore it’s better to remove every memory associated with the thing that caused the pain.”

            Raven shook her head. She didn’t want to hear it. She couldn’t hear it.

            “I had good memories with him,” she argued. “You just can’t take them away. Give them back.”

            “It’s not part of my programming, Raven,” said the A.I in her brain.

            Raven could feel the blood reaching her face and neck as she glared at the being that only thing that she, Jaha, and a dozen people could see. And now she wishes that she couldn’t see her.

            She had to get her out of her head. Because as long as A.L.I.E was in her head, it wouldn’t bode well for her sanity.

           

* * *

 

            “Well, thanks to you, Lexa leaving us to die at the Mountain is juvenile compared to this,” Clarke’s friend, Octavia, seethed as she followed them into a bedroom where Clarke most likely slept in during her stay in Polis.

            Or, ex-friend seemed more accurate. Considering her scowl.

            “I did what was best for Arkadia,” Clarke argued as she turned to her. “For the Coalition. They needed Roan to stay on the throne to honor the Coalition as it stood. Therefore Wanheda needed to be by his side.”

            “And it protected your clan as well,” Roan decided to pitch in. “Azgeda can’t touch Skaikru. Besides, we only went after the massacre participants that landed in Ice Nation territory.”

            “And you’re going to support an Commander whose going to break all that,” Octavia accused.

            It was easy for this girl to think that. For Ontari was as unhinged as she looked but from what he learned upon his return to _Azgeda_ , Ontari wasn’t one to go back on her word. Unlike his mother. Ontari never broke a promise and compromise, from what he knew.

            “Ontari agreed to only go after the adults that landed in Ice Nation,” Clarke insisted. “That the innocent and children will be left alone. She was reasonable about it.”

            Octavia snorted. As if Clarke was speaking some language she couldn’t understand. “After Lexa left us to die, you don’t think this Commander won’t turn on us?” she demanded. “Her people killed forty-nine of our own people. One of them was Bellamy’s girlfriend and you wouldn’t care about the last part since you were out alone playing a guilty martyr for three months. The same people who you betrayed us for.”

            That was unnecessary.

            “Ontari had nothing to do with it,” Roan asserted as Clarke took a step back. As if she was slapped in the face. “My mother and the last remaining Mountain Man who provided her with the information are dead.  Unless that information escaped your notice.”

            Octavia shook her head. As if that information didn’t sway her any. “Even if she wasn’t a part of this, she most likely agreed with it. Killing the rest that landed on her territory won’t satisfy her,” she accused. “She’ll want to wipe the rest of us out.” She turned to Clarke, “And when she calls on the Coalition to kill us, it will be your entire fault.”

            Deciding that he didn’t want Clarke to take this abuse, he had to do something. “If you have nothing better to say, leave,” he said. “Say anything like that to her again, I won’t hesitate to rip out your tongue.”

            The doors opened and it was Anya. She glared at him as she went over to Clarke. Whispering in her ear while gazing at him. As if she didn’t want him to hear. Whatever it was, Anya didn’t want him to know.

            Clarke nodded as Anya drew back from her. “Anya wants me to check on something,” Clarke said to him before turning to Costia, who was standing in the back. “Eirwen, come.”

            Her _Azgeda_ name. For Costia would draw too much attention.

            “I should be back soon,” Clarke assured. “If I’m not back, send Echo to look for me.”

            “That bitch played a part in Gina’s death,” Octavia spat out as Clarke and Costia followed Anya out of the room. “You stooped so low to trust her?”

            “It’s because Echo has good navigating abilities,” Roan pointed out to her. “Trust has nothing to do with it.”

            Octavia shook her head before turning and walking away. She must be this Bellamy’s sister, because no one can be that impulsive.

            Though Roan was worried about her following Clarke. Especially with her venom towards her. However, Roan knew that if Octavia was given the chance to kill her, Clarke would take care of herself.

           

* * *

 

            “Well, it seems that your notoriety had spread throughout the Coalition,” Octavia hissed as they weaved through the streets under darkness. “Trying to assert your dominance as always?”

            Gonasleng. English. So long since she heard since she heard it predominately. Unless three weeks can be considered long. Trigedasleng was used so predominately in _Azgeda_ that it flowed naturally with her now.

            As for Octavia’s remark, her accusation stung.

            “People were antagonizing Roan and I in a village,” Clarke rationalized. “We had to defend ourselves. Maintain authority.”

            “And that is where you received that scar over your eye?” Anya asked. It was dark but from the light of the stars, Clarke could see a glimmer of admiration on the woman’s face. Like Clarke did well in proving that she was Wanheda.

            “Yes,” she choked.

            “Always trying to assume control,” Octavia whispered. “What else isn’t new aside from joining a clan that has done nothing but cause harm to us?”

            Clarke swallowed back bile. Has Octavia evolved into a hypocrite within the past few months? “Says the girl who is assimilating with a clan that sent Murphy with a virus to weaken us months ago,” she pointed out.

            If anything could be said about _Azgeda_ , the same could be said about _Trikru_.

            Octavia said nothing as Anya led them to the door of the temple. They hurried after them and Clarke looked back, having the feeling that they were being followed. It was possible that Echo was acting on her own initiative.

            That she saw them and wanted to see what they were up to.

            Or maybe it was Roan. Trying to make sure that she didn’t get killed by Octavia.

            She swallowed as she went into the building and followed them down the steps. Jolting when she thought she heard Murphy speaking with Gaia. Murphy. What did he do to come here?

            “Your ignorance is astounding,” Gaia said as they stepped into the room. Murphy rolling his eyes. Clarke thought he looked weird in that monk like garb.

            “It’s safe,” Anya said. “No one is here but us.”

            “Is Clarke here?” she heard a familiar voice ask and Clarke jumped. Only to feel the blood drain from her face when she saw Lexa coming around the pod. Carefully holding herself as she walked over. As if she was stabbed in the side.

            It couldn’t be. Lexa was dead.

            “I know this is a shock, but Anya thought it was better this way,” Lexa explained. “That it was better to fake my death and pretend the assassin succeeded. For people wouldn’t rest until I was dead.”

            “Lexa?” she heard Costia ask. Clarke turned before to see Costia standing forward from the wall. Peeling the fabric from her nose and mouth before removing her cap. Anya paled, her eyes widening like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

            Lexa’s green eyes widened. Her skin paled and she was shaking as Costia came closer. As if she were a ghost.

            “C-Costia?” she stammered.

            “Yes,” Costia assured, though uncertainty was in her tone. “It’s me. I’m alive.”

            Octavia narrowed her eyes as Gaia stepped back. As if she was afraid to get near her.

            “You were dead,” Titus spat out. “Nia sent your head in a box.”

            “It was a disfigured head,” Clarke explained as Costia placed her hands on Lexa’s face. “Roan told me. They only wanted Lexa to think she was dead.”

            “Don’t touch her, walking corpse,” Gaia spat out. Lunging forward and pulling Costia away from her.

            “Gaia,” Anya scolded.

            “When an Trikru assimilates into Azgeda after captivity, they are essentially a walking corpse,” Gaia dictated. “They are stripped of what they were and an Azgeda warrior possesses them. It’s what we were taught.”

            “Hate to be a interrupt this sour reunion but I think there is something that we need to discuss,” said Murphy. “Ontari. The Conclave.”

            Clarke was glad for Murphy, for she didn’t know how long she could have of this reunion gone wrong. Even if she expected it.

            “If there is a way to prevent Ontari from participating in the Conclave, tell me what it is,” Octavia said. “We can’t have an _Azgeda_ Commander. Not after Mount Weather.”

            “Ontari has the blood of the Commanders,” Titus pointed out. “It is her birthright to compete for the Flame.”

            “Birthright is one thing but just because it’s her birthright, that doesn’t make her qualify for the Flame,” Anya points out, glaring at Titus. “To be a good Commander, one has to have all three pillars and from what I have seen so far, she only holds one. Thanks to the law regarding unregistered Natblidas, you are putting Trikru and the other eleven clans at risk by giving her a spot in the Conclave. If she wins.”

            “The Flame will choose Aden,” Lexa trembled. “I wouldn’t say that if I wasn’t sure, Anya.”

            Aden. Probably one of the nightblood Novitiates that she saw leaving the throne room with Titus three weeks ago.

            “A novitiate from the Plain Riders is no match against someone from _Azgeda_ ,” Anya grimly points out to Lexa. “If we know one thing, _Azkru_ are known for their ruthlessness and brutality in battle. It will give her a combat advantage in the arena.”

            Remembering what Ontari said about Nia keeping her close and combined with the fact that Nia said that Ontari would replace Lexa, it was obvious that Nia probably trained her for the Conclave.

            Though –

            “Ontari promised me that she would only go after the _Skaikru_ that landed in Azgeda,” Clarke said. “That she’ll leave alone the innocent.”

            “Last time I knew, you were against Ontari becoming Commander just as you were against the fight between Lexa and Roan,” Anya dictated.

            “That was before I went up there,” Clarke stressed. “She promised Roan that she wouldn’t retaliate against me for my assassination attempt and she didn’t. Besides, Roan knows –

            “Ontari was only protecting the interests of the crown, whether she liked it or not,” Anya interrupted. “Which is to be expected of someone raised under Nia. Do you really expect that she would keep her promise with Skaikru?”

            Clarke felt as if a golf ball lodged in her throat. Just like that meeting on the bridge, Anya got her. There was no denying that she had a point. Besides, one Commander betrayed her, what’s to say that the one after her wouldn’t?

            “If she does get that Flame, we shouldn’t have to worry, right?” Murphy asked. He turned to Lexa. “I mean, you are basically still in there. It might not matter.”

            “It matters,” Titus disagreed. “Before Lexa, I have served four Commanders as Flamekeeper. None half as wise or strong as her.”

            Octavia snorted. Resulting in Titus to glare at her.

            “The Flame only enhances what’s within,” Lexa pitched in. “If Anya is right and if Ontari is chosen by the Flame, Ice Nation will hold most of the power of the Coalition and _Skaikru_ will be wiped out.”

            Outside, Clarke could hear a horn being blown. She didn’t know what that meant but for some reason, she could feel her intestines curdle. Something was wrong.

            “What is that?” Murphy asked.

            “The victory horn,” answered Titus, running out. With Gaia following suit. Clarke ran after them as well.

            Moments later to be greeted by a gruesome sight in the throne room and a triumphant bloodsoaked Ontari; sitting on Lexa’s throne like she already owned it.

 

* * *

 

            Rain battered the windshield of Rover 1 as Bellamy drove to the sight of the Dropship. He was to meet Lincoln here. Octavia was at Polis, he heard. Had better priorities, it seemed.

            The thought that she was still angry with him for the massacre gnawed his insides. Hopefully, she would see that he regretted his actions. If he had it his way, he would turn back time and change his decision.

            They all deserved better. Gina deserved to be remembered in a better way than that.

            He wiped his nose. Choking back a sob at the thought of his girlfriend being blown up. Already dead from the attack from an _Azgeda_ assassin. She saved Raven, Wells, and Sinclair even as she was dying.

            Echo could choke for all he cared.

            He pulled the Rover to a stop when he caught sight of his destination. Getting out into the rain as he exited the Rover. The Dropship. Home. He sucked in breath as he walked past the remains of the wall.

            Lincoln was there. Waiting for him. His stance rigid.

            He could only imagine how hard it must be for him to be here. Lincoln was tortured and held captive here. Then he was here because he had to get Octavia to safety after being pierced with an poisoned arrow.

            “Is anyone with you?” Lincoln asked.

            “No,” Bellamy answered. “I’m alone.”

            Lincoln released the tension from his body as he strode forward to him. “What happened?” he asked him.

            “Kane tried to hand Pike over to _Trikru_ yesterday,” Bellamy answered. “He failed and now he’s going to be executed at dawn. Along with Sinclair, who they caught trying to deactivate a bomb on one of the Rovers. We don’t have much time.”

            Lincoln nodded. “It’s going to take stealth to get them out,” Lincoln said. “Though one of us needs to get close.”

            “I can,” Bellamy answered. Pike trusted him. He could spin any story he wanted. Get Miller, Monroe, and Harper involved. “While we’re at it, we can free the interned _Trikru_ prisoners as well. Or else Pike will take it out on them.”

            If Pike couldn’t execute Kane and Sinclair, he’ll kill the prisoners and Lincoln wouldn’t forgive him if he left his people to die. Lincoln despised the violence within his clan but he was still _Trikru_.

            Lincoln nodded. “It’s a plan.”

            Though Bellamy knew that he was also making up to Lincoln for his participation in the massacre weeks ago.

 

* * *

 

            Even if Ontari promised that she wouldn’t touch the rest of _Skaikru_ , Roan thought it was best to get Clarke’s two friends (she had another one that was in the temple at the time they rode to Polis; only he made his appearance when they saw the aftermath) out of Polis.

            Though given that Ontari killed the other Novitiates in their sleep, it set an ill feeling in his stomach. She did say that she wouldn’t be unreasonable. She was family to him but who knows what happened during the five years in his absence?

            It was as if he failed her in that respect.

            Those children were due to die anyway but he couldn’t deny that maybe Ontari being Commander might not be for the best. The idea was treasonous. Ontari might call for his and Clarke’s heads. But for Clarke’s sake, for their treaty’s sake.

            “Go and find Anya while I lead your friends to safety,” he said to her when they were alone in the main foyer. “I’m sure that she might have an idea who might be better suited for a Commander.”

            Clarke’s eyes widened. Not as if she hated the idea. Clarke probably thought the same thing. Especially after that recent gruesome display. Her shock was most likely rooted at the thought of leaving him behind. “What about you?” she asked.

            “I’ll follow after I take your friends out of here,” he promised. “It’s best off if only one of us is branded as a traitor.”

            It was sick to think of it but of the candidates to be suspected of treason, it would be Clarke. She may be their queen but she was also _Skaikru_. They would know it was her because of her past and accuse her of sentimental partiality.

            “Even if it’s not right away, you’ll become suspected of treason as well,” Clarke pointed out. “I can’t have that.”

            “I know,” Roan acknowledged, “but I’ll be sure to see that _Azgeda_ doesn’t swallow whatever Ontari would feed them. I’m going to tell people that you’re going to Arkadia to calm down the situation. Then I’ll catch up with you.”

            That way they could continue a better future for both _Azgeda_ and Arkadia. If Ontari wouldn’t honor the rules of a Conclave, there was no doubt that she wouldn’t honor the terms of _Azgeda_ ’s alliance with Arkadia. There had to be something better.

            Not ideal but at least it could be someone stable. They were doing Ontari a favor anyway.

            Clarke nodded. “I don’t doubt that Anya would know who’s a better candidate,” Clarke said. “I’ll see if we can figure something out.”

            They wrapped their arms around each other. He held her to him tightly. Reluctant to let go. But they had an obligation to uphold. “I should see you soon,” he said before pressing a kiss to her forehead. “May We Meet Again.”

            “May We Meet Again,” she repeated before her lips met his. It was a _Skaikru_ tradition. Something said to someone who’s on death’s door. Though on this planet, it could also be used for people that are parting ways for a time.

            Clarke pressed a kiss to his hand before disappearing out into the night. They will meet again.

            “I guess it’s not politics if you two have that display,” he heard Murphy remark from behind him.

            Roan drew his breath. He didn’t have the time for snarky comments. “Shut up and follow me,” he instructed. The three of them beginning to weave through the alleyways.

            “Just admit that you’re saving our necks because of your relationship with Clarke,” Octavia hissed. “Had it been any other way, you would be wanting our necks.”

            “I would still be helping you out of this city even if our relationship was pure politics,” Roan pointed out. Even if there was no prior relationship between him and Clarke, he would still try to protect her people. “I am not for breaking alliances and treaties.”

            “That doesn’t mean that I trust you,” Octavia insisted.

            Of course, there would be that. They would have that distrust from that association with Ontari, even if it would be unwarranted at the moment. “You’ll come to trust me soon enough,” he assured her.

 

* * *

 

            Clarke swallowed as she weaved through the alleyways. _Azgeda_ might want her head for this. For betraying her Commander, but Clarke didn’t care. She just wanted an alternative to Ontari. As did Roan. They both wanted something that was better for them. For their alliance.

            Lexa probably knew better people to take the Flame.

            She eyed the door to the temple. Quietly making sure that no one saw her. Even if they did, they probably would assume that she was getting the Flame for Ontari. Which was the opposite.

            She reached for the door when a hand grabbed her. Clarke was prepared to stab her attacker when she saw that it was Octavia. Murphy close behind her.

            “Geez, Clarke,” she exclaimed. “You could have killed me.”

            “What are you doing?” Clarke demanded, putting the knife in her belt. “You were supposed to go through the tunnels.”

            “Well, we were until this Grounder Pounder saw you and wanted to see what you were up to,” Murphy pitched in. Octavia hit him in the ribs, mouthing “hypocrite.”

            Clarke didn’t know the meaning of that but she didn’t have the time to find out why. “I am doing Ontari and our people a favor,” Clarke answered, opening the door. “I can’t let Ontari have the Flame.”

            She descended the stairs, hearing Octavia mutter a string of profanities in both English and Trigedasleng.

            “… _honoring tradition, Titus_ ,” Lexa snapped as Clarke entered. “ _If Ontari hasn’t won the Conclave honorably, she doesn’t have the right to host the Flame_.”

            And it appeared that Lexa had the same idea. Titus must have told her what happened with the Novitiates. Clarke could at least give her credit for that.

            Lexa was putting something in a leather overcoat as Titus turned his attention to her. Costia, who was gazing at aged red book, looked up. Only Titus narrowed his eyes at Clarke.

            “What business do you have in here, Wanheda?” he demanded. “Shouldn’t you be sending messengers out about the new Commander?”

            Clarke winced at the accusation in his tone. As if she was one of them. It didn’t help that she wore the brands on her forehead.

            “I am honoring the marriage pact between me and Roan,” Clarke maintained. “I think it’s best for Skaikru that Ontari not receive the Flame.” Clarke turned to Lexa. “Tell me, Lexa. You wouldn’t choose someone like Ontari to lead. I know you wouldn’t.”

            Clarke barely knew Lexa. She hadn’t spent the amount of time with her like she did with Roan but she knew that Lexa was dead set on having one of the Novitiates take after her. Not to mention she heard Lexa point out that Ontari didn’t compete honorably.

            Lexa opened her mouth –

            Titus cleared his throat. “You would,” he stated, looking towards Lexa. “Ontari is the last Natblida that was slated to compete for the Flame.”

            Costia closed the book and slammed it against her forehead as Lexa turned towards Titus. Her face red. “She hacked Aden’s head off before the horn signifying the start of the Conclave blew, making it dishonorable!” she bellowed. “There are plenty of Nightbloods around that would be more worthy to take the Flame then Ontari!”

            “They were chosen to only produce more down their family trees,” Titus stressed. “Therefore making them unworthy.”

            “Come on, there must be someone,” Clarke begged. She turned to Lexa. “Is there anyone that you know that could take the Flame? Someone that you know would be a better alternative?”

            Lexa sighed, as if she was weighing her answer. “Yes. Luna. She refused to kill me during the second round,” she said, ending those words in a sniffle. “Titus wanted her hunted down but I ordered him not to. She spared my life and I decided to spare hers in return. Perhaps I might –”

            “She’s a traitor to the blood, Lexa,” Titus reprimanded. “She’s unworthy of the Flame. I thought you would know better than to see her as a candidate for the Flame.”

            “More unworthy then Ontari?” Clarke demanded, remembering where she heard Luna before. She was mentioned by Lincoln months ago. Could this be the same Luna?

            Octavia rushed into the room as Clarke heard shouts followed by Ontari yelling, “ _Out of my way_!”

            “We got trouble,” Octavia warned as someone clattered down the steps and Clarke saw that it was Murphy.

“She’s here,” he grunts.         

            “Hide,” Titus instructed urgently. Lexa and Octavia hid in an alcove. Clarke swallowed as she took her knife. There was no point and sense in hiding from Ontari. Even if it might backfire, Clarke placed a knife against Titus’ throat.

            Her back turned towards him as Ontari entered. Still blood-soaked.

            “What is this, Wanheda?” she demanded.

            “I was demanding that he produce the Flame,” Clarke lied. Ontari thought that she was on her side, so might as well act like it for the timebeing.

            “I was going to take care of that myself, Wanheda,” she dictated. “I admire the help but there was no need for such.” She directed her gaze to Titus. “As to you: how dare you bring _Skaikru_ into the Order of the Flame?”

            “It’s what Lexa wanted,” Titus answers.

            “Well, Lexa’s not _Heda_ anymore,” Ontari observed. Chuckling softly and smirking, she continues, “Thanks to you. Let’s get this over with.”

            Titus hesitated before answering, “You must be cleansed before you ascend.” He looked to Murphy. “Take her to the Commander’s chambers. Perform the ritual.”

            Titus probably saw how unhinged she was, as if her bloody display in the throne hall wasn’t enough. Though Clarke couldn’t help but widen her eyes. Murphy. He was going to leave her with Murphy?

            Murphy rolled his eyes in usually Murphy fashion. “You’re sure I’m ready for that?” he retorted.

            Ontari pulled out her sword and placed it close to his neck. “ _Stop talking, worm!_ ” she reprimand. She looked to Clarke, “I should see and the king soon.”

            She turned her back. Sliding her sword in her sheath as she follows Murphy out of the room.

            Clarke could see that Octavia and Lexa had left their hiding places.

            “It’s the time,” Lexa panted. “We must go and find Luna. Give her the Flame.”

            “How would you know if she would accept it?” Octavia demanded. “As you said, she fled the Conclave.”

            “Only because she didn’t want to kill me,” Lexa pointed out. “Page Lincoln. Remind him what we’re doing. Tell him we’ll meet him in Arkadia. He’s her friend so she might receive the plan better if he was there also.”

It was decided then it seemed. They were going to give the Flame to Luna. Clarke knew she would feel better if she saw it through.

            “I’m coming,” Clarke announced.

            Everyone in the room widened their eyes. As if that was the last thing she wanted to say.

            “Clarke, you’re literally the Ice Nation queen,” Lexa pointed out. “Ontari would have your head for betraying _Azgeda_ and the Coalition. _Azgeda_ would demand your head as well.”

            “ _Azgeda_ should understand why I’m doing this,” Clarke said. Though there was doubt. Ontari was _Azgeda_ and in _Azgeda_ , any person that would betray an _Azgedakru_ deserved death.  

            “What about Roan?” Octavia demanded. “He’s going to think that you betrayed your end of the deal.”

            Clarke knew how to answer that one. “Trust me,” she answered. “He won’t be a problem.”

            “I’m coming too,” Costia pitched in as Octavia narrowed her eyes. “The queen can’t leave without her attendant.”

            “Costia…” Lexa started, disbelief in her tone.

            “I am coming, Lexa and there’s no stopping,” Costia dictated.

            Clarke had a feeling that Costia was willing to betray Ontari, even if it meant leaving Echo behind. Thing is, did Costia ever tell Lexa about Echo?

 

* * *

 

            Lincoln cut the restraints off Kane with his knife as their small group retreated to a cave. It went smoothly, the escape.

            All Bellamy had to do was to take control of the transport of prisoners. Miller, Bryan, and Harper with him. Lincoln was waiting for them at the hatch. With Wells and Monroe guarding the hallway to make sure that there was no interference.

            The Trikru prisoners dispersed to the woods. The blockade wouldn’t kill them. They would have had to have known that they were imprisoned there against their will for almost a month.

            “So, what’s next after this?” Sinclair asked when the restraints were cut from his wrists.

            There was only one answer. Even if Lincoln didn’t like it.

            “We find a way to hand Pike over to the Grounders,” Bellamy answered. “The longer the blockade goes, our people will starve.”

            “Wait, what?” Bryan demanded, his eyes wide. “You know what will happen if they do that? They will hand him over to the freaking Ice Nation.”

            “And Clarke,” Lincoln reminded them. She wasn’t one of the Ice Nation.

            “She’s literally one of them now,” Miller broke in. “She’s been up there for three weeks. Though handing him over to the Grounders isn’t a bad idea.”

            “You know what they will do to him, Nath,” Bryan argued. “They are vicious. I have seen it firsthand. I even told you.”

            “If we don’t hand over Pike soon, everyone in that camp will die,” Lincoln pointed out. “My clan is merciful to them in comparison with the Ice Nation, but we don’t have an easy choice.”

            “He’s right,” said Harper. “Just let me shock-lash his fascist ass before we do, okay?”

            If Lincoln had it his way, there would have been better alternatives to this. One that wasn’t violent. But what choice did he have regarding Skaikru’s survival?

 

* * *

 

            As planned, Roan navigated the streets. There was a chance that Clarke had left the city by now. That she was looking for another person to host the Flame. Yet, his destination was the Temple of Bekka Pramheda. For he would have gone there anyway.

            He found Titus at the crypt. His face nondescript and hands crossed behind his back.

            “Where is it?” Roan demanded, knowing that he had a role to play. “The Flame.”

            “I can’t find it,” Titus answered.

            Of course this Flamekeeper wasn’t going to tell him at first. He’ll lie about losing it. It wouldn’t surprise him that Titus wouldn’t let a _Azkru_ , especially one that killed her competitors before the Conclave started, to ascend.

            Roan nodded. “I see,” he answered. “Let’s see how Ontari feels about it.” Then he forcefully dragged him out of the Temple.

            Ontari probably expected him to try and coax the Flame out of Titus. With that, it was why he forcefully took Titus from the temple and brought him up to the tower.

Echo had been absent. Probably sleeping somewhere. Or most likely, trekking around for suspicious activity.

When he arrived at the Commander’s door, he knocked.

“ _One moment_ ,” called Ontari and he heard someone leaving a tub of water. Probably cleansing herself for ascension. That’s what Commanders do, he heard. “ _Enter_.”

He burst the doors open, forcing Titus into the room. With Ontari, he could see that Murphy was in the room. Wasn’t he supposed to have left with Octavia?

“What is this?” Ontari demanded.

“The Flamekeeper claims he lost the Flame,” he said. He turned to Murphy. He was still here. Was he curious what Clarke was up to and stayed behind only to get captured. “Why are you still here? Where’s your friend. Also, where’s Wanheda? She’s gone missing as well.”

“Octavia does whatever the hell she wants,” Murphy commented snarkily. “As for your wife, I didn’t know I was supposed to keep track of her.”

 “You are playing games with me,” Roan said, hoping to play the cards right. He lunged to Murphy. Grabbing the fabric of the robe that he was wearing. “She betrayed us by stealing the Flame. Now where is she?”

Those words were like arsenic in his mouth. How he wished he didn’t say them just to put up a façade. There was no going back now, unfortunately. But it was better for only one to be reduced to a traitor.

“She didn’t steal it,” Titus insisted. “I gave it to her.”

There it was. Titus had cracked. Probably because he thought he would kill this Murphy. Roan knew better then to kill one of Clarke’s friends

 “Where’s she taking it?” he demanded as he turned towards him, remembering his last conversation with Clarke. “Your mission is to pass the Flame, you wouldn’t give it to her without a _natblida_ to pass it to.”

He placed a knife against his neck. Not to kill but to coax a response out of him.

“You can’t kill him,” Murphy made known. “He’s the only one that knows the ritual.”

Titus turned his eyes to Ontari, his face full of disgust. “This abomination will never ascend.”

“Kill him,” Ontari ordered.

And by then, he knew that his mother’s influence was strong on her. The belief that power give her the permission to kill whoever insulted her. The mark of a tyrant.

 “He’s right,” Roan pointed out. “We need him.”

At that moment, Titus moved his neck across his blade. Roan instinctively stood back as blood poured from his neck. “For Lexa,” he panted before falling into the tub. The bath water turning red from blood.

That was…unnecessary. His death was unnecessary.

Ontari, of course, was unfazed. Instead, this seemed to work in her favor. “And now for my ascension,” she said.

“You don’t have the Flame,” he pointed out.

“Don’t talk to me as if I’m a fool, Roan,” she bit back. “No one knows that.”

“He does,” reminding her of Murphy’s presence.

“He happens to like his head,” said Murphy. If only he knew that snark was ill-suited for this situation.

“Light the pyre, burn the bitch that killed your mother,” Ontari ordered. “Let the people know that they have a new Commander and let _Azgeda_ know that their queen betrayed them. Find the traitor and bring her to me. That’s an order.”

Just like his mother. It unsettled him in the pit of his stomach. And he wasn’t going to let _Azgeda_ know what Ontari wanted them to know. For Clarke’s sake, as he promised her, he was going to tell them that she had to go to Arkadia to contain the situation.

Now, given the opportunity. He’ll follow her and they’ll find another to ascend.

For Clarke’s sake, he would help find a better Commander.

 

* * *

 

The tunnels led to the stables. There was an armory next to it, according to Titus.

Clarke refused changing out of the garments on her back and removing the diadem. Even if it was risky, it will come as an advantage if they recognized her as queen of Ice Nation.

Lexa and Costia armed themselves with bows, arrows, and swords. Clarke had her sword but she took an archery set. In case she needed it.

Clarke roamed the stable as Octavia familiarized herself with a palomino horse. There was one horse that she was looking for in particular and Clarke was hoping that she would see her.

And she saw her. Distinctive by her markings and the saddle bag that Clarke recognized. And it further proved that it was her when the horse didn’t back away upon being touched.

“ _Hello_ ,” Clarke greeted Morrígan, brushing her mane with her fingers. “ _It’s been a while_.”

The trapdoor opened.

She grabbed her sword as Octavia rushed to the source. Two footfalls nearby.

“Lexa, don’t!” Costia begged. “I know her.”

Clarke turned the corner of the stable when she saw who it was. Who was making a grab for her own sword.

Echo. She had followed them here.


	30. Chapter Thirty

“You!” Octavia hissed when her eyes locked with Echo.

            Octavia lunged forward.

            “Octavia, don’t!” Clarke begged. Restraining Octavia and holding her back while Costia stepped in front of Echo protectively.

            “She had a hand in the deaths of our people!” Octavia hissed, face like a madwoman as Lexa restrained her as well. “Let me at her!”

            “Now isn’t the time,” Lexa panted as Echo went past Costia. Her wide eyes towards Lexa, like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. As if Lexa wasn’t supposed to be alive.

            Then Echo turned to Clarke, her eyes narrowing. “What is this, Wanheda?” she demanded.

            Shit. There was no way out of this now. She had to tell Echo.

            “Echo, I want you to trust me when I say that Ontari becoming Commander will be bad for the marriage treaty,” Clarke implored.

            Echo’s eyes widened. “That is treason, haiplana,” she spat out. “ _Azgeda_ will never support a queen who goes against their Commander.”

            “Ontari doesn’t have the Flame to be a legitimate Commander, Echo,” Clarke hissed. “The Commander has to carry the Flame.”

            “Where is it, then?” Echo demanded. Advancing towards them. “Give it to me, and I will give it to her. She was raised for this. It’s her right.”

            “No,” Lexa growled, her eyes narrowed.

            Echo turned to Lexa. “You have it, don’t you?” she demanded. “Give it to me or I will gut out alive you to get it.”

            In the seconds that Echo took out her sword, Costia inserted herself between them. “If you want the Flame, you’re going to have to kill me too to get it,” Costia quivered. “It’s between that or standing down.”

            It immediately took effect. The blood drained from Echo’s face as she stepped back. That was all Costia needed: tell her that she would have to kill her and her first lover to get the Flame. Lexa curiously looked at them as Echo put her sword back in her sheath.

            Clarke and Lexa relaxed their hold on Octavia, who stopped struggling towards Echo. Though she still scowled at her.

            “I am acting on both _Azgeda_ ’s and _Skaikru_ ’s interests,” Clarke insisted. “As unstable as Ontari is, it’s not good for both our clans and the Coalition. I’m doing her a favor as well.”

            “By denying her birthright?” Echo demanded. “The Conclave didn’t go on but she still emerged as victor.”

            “In an unfair and rigged fight,” Octavia spat out.

            “They would have died anyway,” Echo rationalized as Lexa walked towards one of the horses. “Those Novitiates wouldn’t have stood a chance. Even if there is one who think was more suitable then her, it would be a lost cause.”

            “It wouldn’t be,” Clarke dictated.

            “If you’re going to betray the clan you bound with, it better be worth it,” Echo reckoned.

            “Betraying _Azgeda_ would be betraying _Skaikru_ ,” Clarke countered. “And vice versa, so by our recent standards, you are the traitor for supporting a Commander that will kill _Skaikru_ the moment she feels threatened by them. And she will kill any member of _Azgeda_ that supports them.”

            Echo stepped back, as if those words slapped her in the face. Though that probably could have meant anything. Echo was stubborn. Almost as stubborn as Bellamy.

            “Clarke, we got to go,” Octavia shouted.

            Clarke looked back as she headed towards her horse. Echo not moving. “Dishonoring me will be dishonoring Roan,” Clarke reminded her. “He told me that.”

            She turned away. Taking Morrígan from her stall and following her companions out of the stable. Feeling Echo’s gaze on them.

            “Let me go back there,” Octavia petitioned. “She knows what we’re doing.”

            “Killing her isn’t an option,” Costia argued as she mounted her horse. “She’s the Head Guard. Killing her would send bad repercussions.”

            “We can’t trust her alive,” Octavia argued. “If we keep her alive, she’ll tell Ontari what we’re doing.”

            Clarke turned at the sound of hoofbeats against hard soil. All four girls turned to see Echo, equipped with a bow as well as her sword. “I’m coming with you, then,” she said.

            After protesting, she wants to go with them? There had to be more to it. There had to be.

            “You want to come with us?” Octavia spat before scoffing. “You would throw us under the bus the first chance you get. “

            “I’m not doing this for your benefit,” Echo hissed, mounting on her horse. “I’m doing this for Roan. He would throttle me if I didn’t accompany the queen. It would dishonor him if I didn’t.”

            “And…?” Lexa asked, her eyes narrowed. She was as suspicious as they were.

            “I want to be with Costia,” Echo answered.

            Lexa looked between the two of them. Probably wondering what to make of the situation. As if she was trying to determine their relationship.

            Clarke was biting her lip. It was risky letting Echo go with them but it was also risky leaving her behind in Polis. Echo was the Head of the Royal Guard. Roan made her honor and respect them both, as well as the altar diplomacy between _Azgeda_ and _Skaikru_. But Echo was also the kind of person that might stab a knife in their backs if she thought that it was for Roan’s and _Azgeda_ ’s benefit.

            Letting her come would mean that she could keep watch on her too.

            “Alright,” Clarke guaranteed. “But I’m not going to let you fall behind.”

            Echo nodded. “That is fine with me.”

 

* * *

 

            He did as Ontari asked: he lit the pyre indicating the new Commander’s reign and burned the swathed corpse of the past Commander. Though as he passed down Ontari’s supposed ascension to the nearest _Azgedakru_ , he said: tell our people that your queen is going to Arkadia to stabilize the situation. Don’t let the Commander know I told you and be sure that others know too.

            For going after Clarke for treason might be pointless later on. Something that Ontari should know too.

            As for Clarke’s friend Murphy –

            “Don’t leave him out of your sight until I get back,” he prompted to Ontari.

            “Like I’ll go anywhere,” Murphy retorted as Ontari chained him to the wall by his neck. That wasn’t necessary but knowing Ontari, she would assert her dominance as Commander. Tell him that he may be king but she was more powerful than he was. And he didn’t want to risk getting on the wrong side of her, as she was still furious for being denied the Flame.

            He donned his overcoat and sword. Traveling under the tunnels to the stables, the last time he traveled here was to take Clarke to Polis under Lexa’s directive. Now he was going to follow her.

            The trapdoor led to one of the stables outside Polis, but he made a trip to the neighboring armory. He was going to need an archery set for any threats that were too far for him to use a sword.

            He strapped a quiver to his torso as he made way to the stable.

            Though scanning the horses was indicative that Clarke was here before him. Morrígan was absent along with four other horses. It could have been a contrived coincidence, as people come and go, sometimes with random horses.

            But Roan knew Clarke. She wouldn’t take a horse she wasn’t acquainted with if she had to leave Polis and the use of a horse suggested that she was leaving in a hurry. And it was obvious that she didn’t leave alone, as planned.

            Though it suggested that more than one person accompanied her.

            Echo was absent since Ontari killed the other Novitiates, as was Costia. There could be a chance that they accompanied her on her quest to find a suitable Commander. Though Echo most likely went to be with Costia, for she wouldn’t have agreed to usurping Ontari. Whether she was legitimate or not.

            If they were on horseback, he didn’t want to be far behind. Therefore he took a horse and was on his way.

 

* * *

 

            Raven needed help.

            That was the letter that she wrote this morning in breakfast. He was aware that she was trying to break out of his father’s control since yesterday afternoon.

            _I want to get her out of my head_ , were her words.

            Her.

            Wells didn’t know who Raven meant by that, though it most likely meant that she was referring to the thing currently in her head. Given the feminine pronoun used, this being was probably the invisible being that his father, Raven, and his father’s increasing followers seemed to listening to.

            Wells was going to help her. For Raven’s sanity and his own, he was going to help her. He had to help her. He loved her.

            He winced from those last thoughts. He loved her. They had been through so much together – their first month on the ground, Mount Weather’s last drilling operation, the aftermath of Mount Weather’s explosion – that perhaps romantic feelings would come from it.

            He met with Jasper along the way to Raven’s compartment.

            “Any indication what’s going on with Raven?” Jasper asked. “Why she needed your help.”

            “Something about getting something out of her head,” Wells answered. “The thing that has been in her head for almost a month now.”

            “Hold up, it’s in her head?” Jasper asked as he hurried alongside him.

            Waiting for them was Mrs. Griffin…and his father. Along with his followers. Great. That was the last thing he needed.

            “This doesn’t concern you, Abby,” he informed Mrs. Griffin. “Raven is with us now.”

            Whatever was in his dad’s head, it was making him sound like a cult leader. He seemed to become one increasingly every day. It was getting creepy.

            “Okay, that is creepy as hell,” Wells remarked. “Really creepy, dad.”

            “We took her pain away, son,” he rationalized. “We saved her, just like we can save you.”

            “Okay, if that hasn’t reached the creepiness index, I don’t know what is,” Jasper remarked.

            “Leave me alone!” yelled Raven from the inside of her room.

            Wells knocked on the door and she answered. Her sweat glistening face etched in relief as she saw him.

            “You’ll come along,” said his father.

            “I don’t think so,” Mrs. Griffin swore.

            They better not get caught up in this City of Light mess and it didn’t help that his father wanted him to join. Wells thought it would be a matter of time before he caves into the pressure just to get him off his back.

            And it better not come to that.

 

* * *

 

            Clarke, Echo, Octavia, Costia, and Lexa made a stop in their trip to Arkadia. Tying their horses on trees as Costia made a fire to heat their meat rations. Considering the glances that Octavia was throwing at Echo’s way, Clarke assumed that she was having murderous thoughts in her head.

            Yet, it didn’t help that she was throwing venomous looks at her either. As if she still hated her whether she joined her quest or not.

            “How has it been in Arkadia since I was gone?” Clarke asked as she opened her pouch. Hoping to break the ice in the group.

            Octavia’s face flushed at that question. Her teeth clenched. “After you went on that complete martyr trip, you now care?” she demanded as she sat down with a knife and whetstone. “After selling us out to the Ice Nation, you now care?”

            “I wasn’t selling anyone out,” she pointed out in defense. Stung by Octavia’s words. Though it seemed that Octavia might not be alone in that thinking. That she was probably just a sampling of people who thought that way. If only they knew…

            “I haven’t been in Arkadia personally during those months,” Lexa answered, “but I know a thing or two based on reports.”

            Octavia spat on the ground. “Nothing too eventful happened before Pike’s nonsense,” she answered. “Well, maybe. Bellamy got involved with Gina.” Knife scraped accompanied by a glare at Echo. “Wells and Raven seemed to be leaning closer to a relationship, Lincoln got bereaved from his clan.” Another scrape of the knife accompanied by a glare at Lexa. “And the Ice Nation antagonized us twice.”

            Echo pressed her lips together. As if she was struggling not to say anything.

            “After Mount Weather, an ill-timed election led to a dictatorship by Pike, I had to do damage control for you in Polis since you left us for _Azgeda_ ,” Octavia continued. “Lincoln and I have been away from that mess, which has gotten worse because of the blockade after that attack on the village, and it doesn’t help that Kane said that Jaha is going crazy. Indoctrinating people with some City of Light bullshit or something like that. I think it’s crazy, personally.”

            Clarke was going to ask Lexa about the situation with Arkadia. What she gathered from reports and such but something about Jaha grabbed her attention.

            “Wait, Wells’ father came back?” she asked.

            “Well, I didn’t pay too much attention since it was the same day that Bellamy went out and killed everyone,” Octavia retorted. She looked over at Lexa, who was having Costia changing her bandages on her side.

            “Our bounty hunters caught Murphy lying in wait for more people to rob and he had something that resembled the Flame in his possession,” Lexa pitched in, looking at her. “Turns out, Jaha went to Becca’s island, the Source Location, we call it and discovered her first creation.”

            Echo swore as she dropped her piece of chicken. “He – he’s going to kill us with that thing,” she stressed. “That being literally destroyed the planet.”

            “And Kane confirmed it with Lexa,” Octavia continued, rolling her eyes at Echo, “and apparently he and your mother contained it.”

            “After that situation with Pike and ten of his accomplices gets resolved, we will handle the situation with Thelonious Jaha,” Lexa declared. “It’s a manageable condition, so should take care of it without problem.”

            “Unless it spirals out of control, and we have a bigger problem,” Echo speculated.

            Clarke gazed at Echo, who was eating her rations. Echo wasn’t on board with this but seemed to be on board with taking down the first A.I. that ended the world. Echo wasn’t a fan of this plan either and whenever Echo did something to the contrary, there seemed to be an ulterior motive.

            “Echo, why are you really here?” Clarke demanded.

            Costia, Lexa, and Octavia looked up as Echo furrowed her eyebrows. “I don’t need to repeat myself, Wanheda,” she said. “I thought I made myself clear.”

            Clarke grabbed her sword from her sheath and pointed at Echo’s chest. Her eyes widened as Costia stood up.

            “ _Ai haiplana_ ,” she begged.

            “You likened my decision to find a replacement for Ontari as treason,” Clarke pointed out. “You wanted to kill Lexa to get the Flame, and this mission is pointless to you all I know. Now, give me a reason why I shouldn’t kill you to make sure that you don’t betray us. Even if you are against the first A.I.”

            This was the part of her that was within her but seemed to become potent with the time she spent in _Azgeda_. It was be killed or kill. That if people can’t listen to reason, take drastic measures. She hoped she wouldn’t after Mount Weather but seemed to keep coming back. Especially in _Azgeda_ , where there were people that wanted her dead until that village skirmish.

            She was Wanheda. The current _Azplana_.

            Costia stepped back as Echo’s labored breathing filled the silence. Octavia looked on with wide eyes and it was surprising that Lexa looked on with wide eyes. This was Lexa’s reality for years, right? Unless Lexa didn’t expect this out of her.

            “I…there was a chance that I would come across Bellamy,” Echo panted. “It was best if I explained my part of the Mountain with him.”

            Bellamy. That was it.

            Clarke lowered her sword as Octavia swore under her breath. “My brother?” she demanded. “You want to slime your way back to his good graces? He’ll hate you for what you did.”

            “Even if he does, that doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t explain myself,” Echo explained, standing up. “He saved my life and I saved his life in return. That he needs to know.”

            “At the expense of our people,” Octavia scoffed as Clarke digested Echo’s words. It confused her at first. She had never seen Bellamy and Echo interact. Unless they met in Mount Weather.

            “He saved you?” Clarke asked.

            “I was going to be drained and he rattled the cage bars beside me,” Echo breathed, “and the night we were freed, he encouraged me to get the others out safely. When I saw him at Mount Weather weeks ago, I knew I had to save him. I couldn’t leave that life debt go unpaid.”

            Life debt. If one saves a life, the saved person has to save their savior’s life in return if the latter is in danger. It’s not an alien concept but it’s a quality prized in Ice Nation. Probably could be the same for every clan on this Earth.

            A horse is heard nearby.

            “Someone’s coming,” Lexa warned as Octavia took out her sword from her sheath. Clarke instinctively pulled out an arrow and pulled it along the bowstring, same as Costia, Lexa, and Echo.

            There was nothing but the pounding of her blood in her fingertips and ears as they heard soft hoof beats. Along with twigs snapping under boots. She could see that Octavia was prepared to throw her sword at a moment’s notice.

            Roan emerged from the trees, an russet horse behind him.

            “Weapons down,” Echo called as relief washed through Clarke at the sight of him. “It’s just the king.”

She barreled towards him. Ignoring Lexa’s and Octavia’s shouts as she launched herself at him. Wrapping her arms around him. Burying her nose in his shoulder as he wrapped her arms around her.

Even if she had expected him to return, it wasn’t too much. For it was possible that he might have been compromised.

 “What were you thinking?” Octavia demanded. “Don’t you realize that he might be here to bring the Flame to Ontari.”

“You would be surprised what my intentions are,” he broadcasted as he and Clarke separated. Roan turned to Lexa. “Put the bow and arrow down.”

Costia looked at Lexa; putting her hand on her bow. Slowly, Lexa lowered her arrow. Yet her eyes were narrowed. “That’s bold,” she said. “Does Ontari know that you are betraying her?”

“She doesn’t need to,” he put forth. “Ontari thinks I’m searching for Clarke to retrieve the Flame and bring her to Polis for treason. That’s not my intention. Besides, Clarke and I have arranged to work together on finding another Commander.”

Ontari denounced her as a traitor. Has she broadcasted it to the masses or did Roan find a way to make sure that story didn’t spread?

“How can we trust you?” Octavia demanded, not lowering her sword.

“I am honoring the marriage treaty I made with Wanheda,” he answered. “If Ontari goes back on her word and wipes out _Skaikru_ , it will be a detriment to _Azgeda_. An attack on _Skaikru_ is an attack on _Azgeda_.”

 

* * *

 

Upon taking the chip, all the pain…gone.

The pain of her husband’s execution at her hand…gone.

The pain of her daughter leaving for three months…gone.

It was as if everything nitty and gritty was wiped clean. That the pain in her memories was replaced by a fuzzy and warm feeling.

Abby felt as if every memory was uploaded. As if her entire being was processed and uploaded to a better place. Jaha was right. Her mind was free.

In fact, she had never felt free as she was as she bandaged Raven’s slit wrists. Her mind was tranquil then it ever was before. And she had to thank Jaha, Jackson, Raven, and A.L.I.E for this decision.

Now they need to free everyone else.

“How are you feeling?” A.L.I.E. asked her as Abby was done working on Raven.

“Great,” Abby answered, with a smile.

“I told you that you would come through,” Jaha mused.

“You were right,” Abby said. “You didn’t steal my mind. You freed it. I was ignorant.”

“Should we distribute these?” Jackson asked.

“We make the chips and start as soon as a batch is made,” Abby answered. Everyone in Arkadia needed to join and after that, they’ll spread the City of Light throughout the land.

It was now or never.

 

* * *

 

The six of them continued on horseback. With Octavia in the back because she wasn’t sure whether to trust her to not kill Roan or not. Octavia had learned that part of the Woods Clan, it seemed: don’t trust a member of your enemy, for they have ulterior motives.

Since _Azgeda_ was the enemy of _Trikru_ , they were now Octavia’s enemy. Octavia had stuck to them like Velcro.

“And have you thought of a plan if Luna refuses?” Roan inquired. “Since she fled the Conclave, I doubt she might want to step up as a Commander.”

There was a backup plan. Lexa’s idea. One of the _Natblida_ Novitiates in Lexa’s class had a twin brother that also bled black. A rare phenomenon, it was. He was in Blue Cliff’s capital, Hasse. Working as an apprentice to a blacksmith.

“There is a lead in _Ouskejon_ ,” Clarke answered. “Lexa figures that he might be more willing to host the Flame if Luna refuses.”

“He seemed envious that he didn’t get to participate in the Conclave,” Lexa pitched in. “But until then, we snuff out the problem with Jaha and A.L.I.E since it’s in a manageable level.”

“A.L.I.E.,” Roan repeated. “You’re talking about the Flame’s predecessor.”

“I would assume you know since it was said that _Bekka Pramheda_ and _Azgeda_ ’s first king were friends until their fallout,” Lexa sent on. “She has made a comeback and has left the Source Location to Arkadia. It said that she had one of _Skaikru_ indoctrinate a handful before the former Chancellor and former Vice Chancellor intervened.”

“Before we approach _Mason kom Ouskejonkru_ , we snuff out, A.L.I.E,” Clarke continued. “Take out one threat before proceeding with another.”

Roan nodded. Appearing as if he was thinking it over. “Have any of you checked that this threat was recently contained?” he asked. “It was said that the last time _Bekka Pramheda_ contained the predecessor of the Flame, she still managed to escape and wreak havoc.”

Oh, crap. She never thought of that. Roan had a point.

“Not this time,” Lexa dictated.

“You can only contain a fire so long only for it to spiral out of control,” Roan said. “Since you said that this A.L.I.E is controlling a handful, there is still a chance that her followers might find a way for her to spread her influence.”

Lexa narrowed her eyes at him. As if she was skeptical of what he said.

It seemed that Roan was thinking something over. As if the idea he was thinking over was even unsettling. “If it comes to the point where A.L.I.E does unleash herself and Luna refuses, plan b might be off the table,” he contends. “We might have no choice but to give Ontari the Flame.”

Clarke stopped her horse as she gazed at Roan. What? He couldn’t possibly –

“That’s why we’re finding Luna in the first place,” Lexa spat out.

“Ontari wants her for treason and I have told people that Clarke has gone back to Arkadia to control the situation,” Roan insisted. “A lie can only go on for so long. We might not have the time to find the second candidate if it came to that. Besides, if you want to tackle both, you pacify one by turning her goal elsewhere. Ontari would think that her goal would be to deactivate A.L.I.E.”

Pacify one threat by distracting it with the other. Clarke never thought of that. Even if it was risky, it was resourceful.

“Good call,” she acknowledged

“Which might get us killed if we’re not careful,” Octavia groaned.

Clarke slowed her horse slightly until she was side by side with Echo. Echo was quiet ever since they took off again for Arkadia. She and Costia never exchanged a word for some reason. As if they couldn’t find any words.

“What are you going to expect when you see Bellamy?” Clarke asked Echo.

Echo looked on straight ahead. “I just want him to know that I saved his life,” Echo answered. Even if it was straight laced, there was some wistfulness in her tone. Clarke thought back to when Echo revealed that she joined to their group with the sole purpose of seeing Bellamy to explain herself.

Thinking back to the cadence of her voice and the way her eyes looked when she said it, it couldn’t cancel out the fact that Echo probably had a special place in her heart for Bellamy. That she probably loved him even if she herself didn’t acknowledge it.

And Clarke didn’t know whether that it should bother her. She loved Roan and went as far to marry him for political stability. She spent more time with him then Bellamy. Bellamy who led the hundred with her.

            Though they say that you love people differently. Her love for Roan was romantic and her love of Bellamy was the love one would have as a friend.

            “As Bellamy’s friend, I can tell you that it wouldn’t be pretty,” Clarke shared. “You had a part in killing forty-nine of his people, among them his girlfriend from what I hear. It’s not going to matter that you saved his life. He would have a hard time trusting you. He would have a hard time forgiving you.”

            Echo turned to her. “He doesn’t have to,” she abruptly put forth. “It was a war and war sometimes makes you do things that hurt the ones you love.”

            Clarke nodded, though there was one factor. “ _Azgeda_ ’s quarrel was with Lexa,” she pointed out. “Not my people. My people didn’t have to die to suit an agenda. The blow up on Mount Weather was to hurt Lexa at the expense of my people.”

            With that, Clarke resumed her spot next to Roan.

            The sky darkened as they trekked the journey south and when the sun went down, the group planned to separate.

            “There is a cave nearby,” Octavia shared. “We should split into groups of three. One can go to Arkadia to check if Lincoln has returned there. The other can be at the cave.”

            “You lead the group to the cave,” Clarke said. “You know where it is. Take Echo and Costia with you. I’ll go to Arkadia with Roan and Lexa.”

            It was a risk, considering that there was a warrant for her arrest. Yet, if Pike was turned over as Lexa and Octavia hoped, it was worth it. Besides, she knew the way.

            “Make that four for the cave,” Lexa said. “I can’t be away from Costia.”

            Octavia rolled her eyes. “Okay. Suit yourself then.”

            Lexa took Clarke’s horse as the group left Clarke and Roan alone. “With Arkadia out for your blood, this is a risk,” Roan pointed out. “The next person in power usually takes over for their leader.”

            “It should be safe,” Clarke dictated. “It should be safe if Octavia thinks that Lincoln went back to Arkadia.”

            “If it isn’t, we leave at the first sight of danger,” Roan replied. “Which narrows it down at the cave.”

 

* * *

 

            It was dangerous.

            But they did it.

            It was all worth it handing over Pike, as the blockade was lifted. Kane was headed to Polis to follow them and meet with the new Commander. The only thing that Bellamy hoped was that this new Commander will acknowledge Lexa’s rule. There was a risk that she or he wouldn’t but for Arkadia’s sake he hoped they would.

            Sinclair was trying to contact Arkadia without success as Bellamy sat down with Monty, who had been silent ever since they handed Pike over to the Grounders. It was easy to determine what was eating him.

            “Are you okay?” he asked him.

            “I don’t know,” Monty answered. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel that my mother betrayed me.”

            Monty’s mother figured out that he helped them free Kane, Sinclair, and the _Trikru_ prisoners by creating a diversion. Sold him out to Pike in the process. He could understand why that would bother him. Even if the odds were against it, they should figure it out. They were family.

            “You should work it out,” Bellamy tried to encourage. “You guys are family.”

            Before Monty could answer, Bellamy could hear a ruckus outside. Freezing before hearing Lincoln shouting, “Put your gun down. It’s Octavia.”

            Octavia.

            Bellamy left where he was sitting and ran outside. Leaving the cave to see Octavia and Lincoln embracing. Octavia looked at him over his shoulder and he cringed at the resentment on her face.

            Not long to see three other figures slowly depart from the trees. Harper, Bryan, Monroe, and Miller raising their guns in caution. Bellamy raised his own gun instinctively.

            Lexa.

            “Isn’t she supposed to be dead?” Monroe demanded.

            “Apparently not,” Miller said as Bellamy tried to digest it. Lexa, alive. It couldn’t be. She was killed by an assassin in Polis. Octavia told Kane. Unless she faked her death.

            The second figure was a girl with dark blonde hair. Clothed in black furs and wearing brands of the Ice Nation on her temples. And Bellamy witnessed as Lincoln turned, standing frozen as he regarded this girl. She took a step hesitantly before the two embraced.

            Even if Bellamy didn’t know the context, he couldn’t help but crack a smile. Perhaps these two were friends and this girl happened to be taken captive by the Ice Nation. Forced to assimilate.

            It was when he saw the third figure, her overcoat draped in white furs, when his smile disappeared.

 

* * *

 

            In was nighttime when they arrived at Clarke’s old home. The blaring white lights making it obvious that this was it. Roan swallowed.

 _Skaikru_. Clarke’s people.

His people too since three weeks ago. He knew but they didn’t know.

Beside him, Clarke was biting her lip. She was hesitating. Most likely because she hasn’t been here for months. She swallowed.

“Clarke,” he said.

She turned to him.

“You got this,” he encouraged. It might have been shallow considering the threats that were facing them but encouragement was better than none.

She nodded and said, “Let’s do this.”

Let’s take the risk.

They took steps further when the gate before them burst open. He pulled her back when a vehicle veered forward in what seemed like breakneck speed until it stopped in a halt. There were two boys in the front seat.

Both looked on with wide eyes and from Clarke’s face, she seemed to recognize them. “Wells? Jasper?” she asked.

The passenger door swung open as Clarke ran towards them and he follows. “Both of you, get in!” one of them yelled. The urgency in his tone could only indicate that something was very wrong, and that it was worse then what they were expecting.       

The fear in his tone was enough to raise the hairs on Roan’s neck.

“Wells, please,” Clarke begged. “We need to see Lincoln.”

“Lincoln’s not here,” said the other boy as the boy with dark skin pulled her in. Roan pushed her in as he entered the vehicle behind her. “We need to – um, is it wise to bring him in here?”

Outside, Roan could hear something going off. Multiple things actually. Roan had never heard a gun in his life but he guessed that this is what they sounded like. More terrifying then the sound of arrows being shot from bowstrings.

“I don’t care who he is. He’s coming in,” said the boy that helped Clarke in. In the back was an unconscious girl with thick bandages on her wrists. “We leave him behind and he’ll get killed. Now get the Rover going, Jasper!”

“You guys don’t understand, we –”

“Clarke, now’s not the time,” Roan pointed out as the engine whirred but failed to start.

Jasper, it seemed, looked back at her and said, “You’re the angel of death, aren’t you.”

“Jasper, we don’t have time for this nonsense,” Wells insisted as he tried the engine again. “We got to get out of here.”

The vehicle started moving at the third try and the door was opening from the back.

Roan reached for his knife as Clarke pulled out her sword. Wasting no time as she impaled someone’s head just as the door opened. She proceeded to kick him off and froze as she saw the crowd at the gate. The gap in the front of the crowd as if there was someone there. And he thought he recognized one of the two people, who happened to be the very person Clarke locked eyes with.

Her mother.

Shit.

With guns blazing at them, Roan slammed the door abruptly and pulled Clarke away from the door.

It was as if they stepped into something that was worse than comprehension. If it had something to do with that first A.I, then it had unleashed from containment unchecked as he predicted.


End file.
